


Crossing the Barre

by Cate Shaw (Bluebell84)



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Ballerina, Ballet, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Stepbrother - Freeform, dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebell84/pseuds/Cate%20Shaw





	1. Chapter 1

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Today is the day. My mother is getting married. Again. It's about time, too. I'm happy for her, I really am. It took her such a long time to get over losing my dad. Well, not really "get over," but move on. I suppose it would take anyone some time to move on after your spouse dies as tragically as my dad did. And he was bloody fantastic. Hilarious and handsome. And extremely loyal. A big family man.

I was seventeen years old and about to perform my solo for the dance company I've been apart of my entire life. Every breath I've ever taken has led me up to that very moment. I stood in the dark upon the stage, in fourth position for the start of my piece. The spot light rose upon me and I narrowed my eyes out into the audience, quickly searching for my family. I spotted my mom and my sister but there was an empty seat next to my mom. My heart sank; my dad knew how important this solo was to me. The music began and I rose to my toes and let myself be immersed in the emotion of the music and the dance.

I focused on my extensions and leaps and pushed the anger at my dad into the back of my mind. I needed to complete this solo with perfection. There were talent scouts in the audience. One from the prestigious Berkley Academy of Dance and one from Juilliard. My dreams were just in reach, so long as I focused.

As the music swelled, so did my heart. I poured myself into the dance. The audience disappeared before me and it was just me and the music. Months and months of vigorous training, months of turning down dates and losing friends because of practices. My muscles know this dance by heart. All I need, the final ingredient for the perfect solo, is the emotion. Liebestraum No. 3 is not hard for me to feel. Melodic and sensual at first, it builds up before settling down with a calm finish. Landing in my last position and holding it, I realized then that tears were trailing down my cheeks. The spot light faded and a roar of applause sounded from the large group of people before me, bringing me back to reality. The light shone on me once again and I blew kisses and curtsied. My family, minus my dad, were screaming with joy; my mom covering her mouth as she cried.

My sister gave me a wonderful bouquet of daisies and my mother would not stop kissing my cheeks. I asked her where Dad was and she just shook her head, unsure. She hadn't been able to reach his cell all evening. 

I met with the talent scouts, who congratulated me on my solo, and I was told they would be contacting me within the next few weeks. I was on cloud nine. But you know what they say - what goes up, must come down. And when my mother pulled into the driveway of our house, the cops were at our door, waiting for us.

Ten years later, after all the struggle, tears, and personal battles, I think I can finally say that my family will be just fine. I enrolled at Berkley and moved away, which probably did more harm to my poor mother. Jess, my big sister, transferred from her university to the community college to be near Mom. I pray she doesn't resent me for leaving them behind.

Jess and I stand near the alter, bouquets of pink peonies in our hands, draped in our gold silk bridesmaid dresses. Our soon-to-be step-father, Roger, stands proudly with a big goofy grin plastered to his face as our mother gracefully walks down the aisle, a tear in her eye. She's never looked more beautiful.

I glance around Jess and see the groomsmen, Roger's sons, Chris and David. They have the same bittersweet smiles as Jess and I. Chris, the eldest, turns and looks directly at me. He drops his head and glances back up, in a bit of a bashful way, giving me a small smile before turning his attention back to my mom.

We had only just met this morning as we did a quick run-through before the ceremony. Chris is an actor and couldn't make it any earlier than today. Luckily though, we all have two weeks during the family honeymoon to get to know one another more. Chris strikes me as quiet and introverted while David talks up a storm and cracks jokes about everything. I quickly find myself drawn to Chris. He seems sweet, and his smile seriously does light up a room.

The wedding is short and sweet, the guests consisting mainly of close family and friends. When the bride and groom kiss, Jess and I are brushing away our happy tears. The happy couple, along with their kids, old and new, pose for their first family photos together. David cracks jokes the entire time, making it easy to smile for each shot.

A few days later at the cabin in the Rocky Mountains, where Mom and Roger have decided to have our family honeymoon, Chris and I are playing Scrabble. The rest of the family went out on a hike. Chris is under the weather with a cold, which, I learned, is a big no-no for an actor. I stay behind because I sprained my ankle climbing up to the cabin when we first arrived. I may have exaggerated and blown my injury out of proportion but being a ballerina, I kind of need my ankles to work the right way. Chris scooped me up and carried me the rest of the way as I sniveled and whimpered. Roger insisted I keep it elevated and iced until it's all better before I join them on any treks. I'm scared to put weight on it and I still limp when I do.

"P-L-A-Y-A. Playa." Chris places the last A with a small smile before scribbling down his score.

"Uh, no. Playa is not a real word!" I look at the board in disbelief.

Chris sits back in his seat, wearing jeans and a red plaid shirt, arms across against his taut chest. "Are you challenging me?" He hasn't shaved since we've been here, so his beard is growing in rather nicely.

"I am. I challenge you. Playa is not in the dictionary."

As he pulls out his phone to search the word, I raise my finger, "A real dictionary. Not Urban Dictionary."

Chris smirks, typing the word into his Dictionary app. "Hah! Playa! 'Western U.S. the sandy, salty, or mud-caked flat floor of a desert basin having interior drainage, usually occupied by a shallow lake during or after prolonged, heavy rains.' Suck it, Maggie." He playfully glares at me with his icy blue eyes.

"I will do no such thing. You win. I seriously can't play anything else." I look at my pathetic tiles of B and Q, defeated.

"That makes, what, four in a row?" Chris gloats.

"Yeah yeah. Good game. I need some tea. Do you want some?" I scoot my chair back and push myself up, wincing on my bad foot.

"Maggie, sit. I'll get it. What kind do you want? Peppermint or Earl Grey?"

I quickly hobble to the couch and prop my foot up on a pillow. "Peppermint, please. Thanks Chris."

Chris hands me a mug and plops down next to me, sniffling. "Feel like watching one of the three terrible movies that came with the cabin?"

We have no cable, however, the owners of the cabin have graciously provided us with Twilight, Jersey Girl, and Sex and the City 2.

"Oh god. I don't know. How do we choose?" I laugh.

Chris grabs them and plays Eenie Meanie Miney Moe, finishing with Jersey Girl.

"Jersey Girl it is, then." He puts the DVD in and sets it up before snuggling himself up into a blanket back on the couch.

We remain quiet for most of the movie other than to chuckle at something funny. When Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler shower together, we start talking to lighten the mood.

"What do you think about Ben Affleck?" Chris asks.

"Wha? Uh, he's okay. I always found him attractive."

"Really?"

I nod, sipping my tea.

The movie continues and we are quiet again for a few more minutes. Chris sits up and pauses the movie.

I look at him and again, he asks, "Really?"

I laugh. "Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know. He just doesn't seem like your type, I guess."

"How could you possibly know my type? We've only known each other for five days," I laugh again.

Chris shrugs, eyeing me. "I don't know. He seems kind of loud and obnoxious."

"No, Russell Brand is loud and obnoxious."

"You have a thing for Russell Brand?"

"No! I don't like the loud and obnoxious guys. Affleck is way more subdued than Brand."

What a weird conversation.

"Hmm." Chris scratches his chin, considering, and then hits play.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you like Liv Tyler?"

Chris gives me a broad smile. "Who doesn't? Long hair, pretty face, cute personality."

Without even thinking, I start tugging my long brown locks and notice he's staring at me. I point to the television. "You're missing the movie," I tease.

An hour later, the credits are rolling and we are still chatting. We end up on the subject of our deceased parents. Our mood has gone from fun and harmlessly flirty to, well, the opposite of fun and flirty. Chris tells me about the time his mom quit her job so she could stay home with him when he had the chicken pox.

"She had just been promoted a month before and they wouldn't give her the time off to take care of me. I remember her crying when she hung up the phone. She just wrapped me up and we watched movies together all week. That's the biggest memory I have with her."

"She sounds like a wonderful mom, Chris," I sit to my side, crossing one leg underneath me, keeping my other leg out along the couch cushions.

Chris grabs the pillow next to him and slips it under my ankle. "She was the best."

"And how did she, how did she pass?" There's really no nice way to ask how someone kicked the bucket.

"Cancer. She died when I was seventeen."

"Oh my god, my Dad died when I was seventeen, too!"

"Man, I'm sorry."

The sun is sinking into the horizon outside and I feel a bit jealous that we aren't out with everyone else to catch the sunset. Dad loved watching the sun set. 

"I'm really happy for our parents. Your dad really seems like a perfect match for Mom. I hope he can handle her," I joke, half-heartedly.

"You know," Chris starts, "If I'd known you back when they began dating, I would have come home more often."

I blush and nervously chuckle. "Well, I was never home much, myself. So it is what it is."

Chris smiles and looks down. He does that a lot when he's uncomfortable, I notice. "I'm glad our parents met."

"Me too." I pull on the sleeves of my hoodie, slightly shivering. It's chilly up in the Rockies and I wish I'd been more prepared.

"You cold?" Without waiting for a reply, Chris opens up his blanket and scoots closer to my side, lifting my ankle carefully so my leg rests over his lap. He closes the blanket around us and we talk more about our families.

The topics continually change. Conversation comes easily to us. One minute we're on the subject of our siblings, then childhood pets, and finally we bring up our relationship statuses. Chris is single, surprisingly. 

"It's not easy with my line of work, really," he explains.

"But surely you date?"

Chris shrugs. "Not as often as I'd like to."

"Hmm."

"And you? Boyfriend?"

"Uhm. Sort of? I mean, I'm seeing my instructor but it's nothing serious. Please do not repeat that anywhere. The studio has a strict 'no dating' policy. We could both be sacked."

Chris crosses his heart with his finger, smiling. "I love secrets," he teases.

"I bet you do," I laugh.

"Your instructor though? That's a bit... scandalous," He wiggles his brows.

I giggle and shake my head. "Like I said, it's not serious. It's probably nothing."

Chris gives me a half smile and rests his hand on my knee. I'm suddenly aware of our proximity. It feels rather intimate, the way we are kind of cuddled up with a blanket. This guy is my step-brother. Alarms should be going off, but they're just not. It's not like we grew up together. We only just met five days ago. And let's face it, we're both adults. Still...

Chris glances up and places an arm behind me on the couch. Okay, time to move.

I sit straight up and drop my legs over the edge of the couch. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll call it an early night." I stretch and fake yawn.

"Okay." He cocks his head my way, those beautiful eyes of his framed with gorgeous lashes. The look in his eye makes me feel like melting into a puddle. The front door opens and our parents enter, our siblings close behind.

I stand up immediately and hobble to the room I'm staying in with Jess. "Welcome back," I say in passing.

"How was the hike?" Chris asks just before I close my door behind me.

I breathe deeply, unsure of what exactly just happened. I'm not quite sure Chris has any idea either.


	2. Chapter Two

"Hold it... hold it..." Bentley leans against the barre on the mirrored wall, arms crossed, stroking his chin. "For god's sake, point your toes!"

I hold my arabesque, feeling the thigh of my support leg wanting to give in. Any second now it will begin to shake, exhausted. Sweat slowly drips down my back and off the tip of my nose.

"Okay, great. Let's try again from the top, shall we?" Bentley claps his hands together once and turns to the sound system to restart the music.

I know better, but I groan. I bend down and touch my toes to stretch, then wrap my hands around my ankles. I stand straight and extend my arms out and then wrap them around myself and repeat. "Bentley, it's past ten. Can we just call it a night?"

The music begins and Bentley turns around. "Maggie, you have so much to catch up on! Two weeks' worth! And on top of that, you need to strengthen that weak ankle of yours before you get hurt again. Now, again!"

I inhale and exhale, and get into position. Bentley counts and I take off. Several jumps, pirouettes, fouettés, and pliés later, I hold my arabesque once again, silently praying for Bentley's approval.

In my peripheral vision, I can see his reflection in the mirror, observing. Again, my leg threatens to shake.

"Wonderful, Maggie." He turns the music off and smiles at me. "Don't worry, we'll get there." He holds out his hand and I take it. He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me, kissing my forehead. "You just need to _want_ it more."

I frown and look up at him. "You know I do."

"Then you can't be taking two week breaks anymore. Not if you're serious about this, Maggie."

His words stung me. For the first time in my life I put my family before dance by spending the wedding and honeymoon with them. I never, ever take time off and Bentley of all people knows this.

Someone walks past the door of the studio we are in, making Bentley jump. It's only a custodian. He sweeps a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiles.

I break away from his embrace and sit on the floor to take my shoes off. Bentley leaves me with the keys and asks me to lock up. I unwrap my weak ankle, stretch it out, and stuff my things into my dance bag. I'll be right back here before the sun rises and I wonder if it's even worth it to go home for the night. Yes. Yes it is. A hot bath and some hot tea is called for after a grueling day of training. I certainly deserve it. I slip on my sweats and step into my boots.

Half an hour later after locking up, flagging down a cab (normally I walk, but since Bentley had me stay late, better safe than sorry), and peeling off my dance gear, I slowly step into my hot bath. I groan as my tight muscles finally begin to relax. I feel so much better that I nearly fall asleep. 

Afterwards, I make some tea and get comfy in my bed with my laptop, checking emails before getting some shut eye. I trash the spam and reply to friends invitations before coming upon an email from my mom with attachments of some wedding photos. Smiling, I click through them. It's weird how we really look like a real family. 

Chris looks really good. I wonder how he's doing. Strangely enough, we both flew back to LAX but at different scheduled times. Chris had no idea I lived outside of LA.

"If I'd known, we could've been on the same flight. I hate flying alone," he had said.

I think about shooting him a text, just to say hi. Instead, I send a mass text.

**To: Mom, Roger, Sis, David E., Chris**

**Pictures are great! Love and miss you all! xxMaggie**

Mom instantly replies with a bunch of emoticons; smile after smile with a few hearts.

Roger says to come visit again soon.

Jess sends a smile and David sends a thumbs up.

I guess the days of communicating are over.

I get a separate text from Chris, which makes me sit up a little taller.

**From: Chris  
You're up late**

**To Chris:  
As are you**

**From Chris:  
I always am. What's your excuse?**

**To Chris:  
Practice ran late**

**From Chris:  
How's your ankle?**

I smile and yawn.

**To Chris:  
Not too bad. How's your life?**

I wince as I hit send. What a lame question.

**From Chris:  
It's great! I have a screen test tomorrow for a romantic comedy. It should be fun.**

**To Chris:  
That does sound fun! Break a leg. Going to bed now. Good night :)**

**From Chris:  
Sweet dreams.**

I finish my tea, push my laptop to the side of my bed and hunker down into the bedsheets. I switch the bedside lamp off and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

 

*****

 

Weeks passed slowly but I was able to nail my routine, finally, to Bentley's standards. The day I've been waiting for is here. I hop a bus with Bentley's bus pass to LA to audition for McDonald Selznick Associates, a talent agency. They are hiring professional dancers for music videos and are specifically looking for contemporary dancers. Being classically trained in ballet gives me a leg up.

The ride there doesn't take too long at all. Adrenaline keeps me on edge, completely awake and alert. I could barely sleep last night. The bus stops at the destination Bentley told me to get off at. From here I need to walk a few miles. I thank the driver and toss my dance bag over my shoulder, stepping off the bus.

I rarely, if ever, come to the city. But my adrenaline is so high that I'm not nervous in the slightest. I clutch my bag and take off, dodging fellow pedestrians and keeping my eyes forward. I walk for quite a while and I begin to slow down, unsure of which way I should be going by now. I slide my phone out of my bag and pull up my maps app just to check. I look at the street signs and back at the phone as I continue to walk. I'm going the right way, still. Good.

I hear someone shout my name which stops me in my tracks, the person behind me nearly colliding against me. I apologize and move out of the way as they mutter under their breath. I glance around and see someone waving, crossing the street towards me. It's Chris.

"Maggie! Hey!"

"Wow, hi! What are you doing here?"

He laughs and we move even more off the main sidewalk to avoid angry pedestrians. "I live here, Maggie," a little smirk growing.

I blush, embarrassed. Duh.

"Right. Hah. I'm actually on my way to an audition," I point in the direction I was heading.

"MSA?"

I nod, surprised he knows of it. But he's Mr. Hollywood, so of course he does.

"Can I walk with you?" Chris does this adorable thing with his eyebrows when he asks for permission, or just any question in general. God his eyes are pretty. He looks completely all-American in his jeans and button up blue and green plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, with a well-loved baseball cap.

"Sure, if you can keep up," I tease. "I can't be late."

He smirks, thinking I'm kidding but then has to power walk to catch up to me. We walk side by side when we can. The sidewalk is pretty congested with tourist and everyday LA civilians. For the most part, we remain silent other than to ask how the other is. We look at each other once in a while and share a smile. Chris purposely bumps me and I bump him back. Finally, I spot the building for the agency and my heart starts to race. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.

"This is where I leave you," Chris turns to me with his hands in his pockets, looking positively charming.

I chew my lip and look back at the building. "Actually," I think out loud.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you think you could stay? And wait, maybe? I mean, if you're not busy. God, never mind, I'll be fine."

Chris places a hand on my shoulder and squeeze. "You'll be fine! And yes; I'll wait for you. We can get dinner after, if you want?"

I nod, thankful for him. "Okay. Well. Here goes!"

"Wait!" Chris wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head, squeezing me firmly. "Break a leg!"

I swallow hard and blush, turning my face away quickly before he sees. "Thanks!"

 

*****

 

I screw up, royally. In my excitement, I neglect to tape up my ankle before it was my turn. I lose my balance and my ankle gives way beneath me during a pirouette and I collapse to the stage. I stand quickly and continue to the end, but the magic is gone. I wait until I'm in the bathroom before letting the tears out. There are two others in the bathroom sniveling and wiping their tears. They give me sympathetic smiles as I walk in. I think about calling Bentley but I think his disappointment in me will make my ride back all the more depressing. I'll wait until I'm home. 

After five minutes of focusing on even breaths, I wipe away the smeared mascara and head out. I completely forgot about Chris until I see him waiting for me on a bench across from the entrance, his cap pulled down to help hide his identity from passersby. We make eye contact and he sits up straight, a smile spreading across his face. I give him a small wave and a half smile. He stands and we meet in the middle of the walkway.

"How'd it go?" He asks, glancing at my feet, having noticed my slight limp.

I shake my head. "Not well. I fell."

"No! Aw, Maggie, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

I laugh humorlessly to hide my pain and embarrassment. "Thanks for waiting. Wish I had better news to share. I'm going to head to the bus stop now. It was nice seeing you again."

"I don't live too far from here." He holds out a hand, not touching me, but keeping me from hobbling away.

I look at him, waiting for more.

"You could come over? Or I'll run and get my car and I can drive you back home?"

"Um," I think to myself. I really just want to bury my face into my pillow and sleep a month straight. But my ankle is throbbing. I won't survive the walk back to the bus stop. "I guess I could come over. I can call a cab from there. Redwood Heights is kind of out of the way for you."

"No, Maggie, I insist. Let me drive you home later. Please?" He presses his hands together, raising his eyebrows. His fucking face.

"Wow, Chris. Impressive puppy-dog eyes," I tease, smiling. "Okay fine. You may drive me."

Chris takes my bag, and leaning against him with his arm around my waist, we plod on towards his house.


	3. Chapter Three

Being the weekend, the streets and sidewalks of LA are rather busy making it difficult to walk side by side without being rudely bumped into. After the third time having to put my foot down completely to keep from being knocked over by a hoard of teenage boys, Chris stops and readjusts my bag across his shoulder. 

He moves in front of me and hunches down. Looking back at me, he says, "Hop on. It'll be quicker and you won't hurt yourself any further."

"Uh, no."

"Maggie. Hop on. Just a few more blocks and we're home!"

I groan and place my hands on his shoulders, preparing to jump up on his back. I giggle as my first attempt fails and Chris misses grabbing my thighs to hold me up in place.

"On three, ready?" Chris looks back.

I smile and nod.

On three, I leap and his forearms hook under my knees, holding me in place. I cross my arms over his chest and Chris begins to carry me. I can't help but laugh. I'm sure we look ridiculous. 

Several blocks later, certainly more than "just a few" as Chris had said, the scenery changes from bustling city folk to gardeners pruning plants and young mothers pushing their babies in strollers. We come up to a security gate where Chris proceeds to punch in a code. The gate opens outward and Chris carries me into the courtyard. 

"Wow, this is nice," I comment.

"Yeah, I like it. Everyone here is pretty private."

"Do you live alone?" We pass several doors until he stops.

"No, I have a roommate. Brace yourself because he's going to be all over you." Chris loosens his grip on me and I slide down off his back, keeping my weight off my sore ankle.

"Oh?" 

Chris unlocks his door and pushes it open. "Don't worry; he's harmless." Chris gestures for me to enter first and so I do.

Immediately a loud bark startles me and a rather large brown and white American Bulldog trots toward me, tail wagging.

"Maggie, meet Max," Chris kneels down on one knee, playfully grabbing the dog behind the ears to wrestle with him. "Whatcha been up to, old man?"

Chris stands and closes the door, locking it. Max takes a sudden interest in me and I hold completely still as he sniffs me out, checking if I'm a friend or foe. I slowly kneel as Chris did and hold my hand out for him to sniff. He gives me an appreciative bark, presses his nose against my palm, and gives my fingers a lick.

"You passed the test; you're one of us now," Chris smiles as he takes my hand to help me stand again. I smile and scratch Max behind the ears.

Chris places my bag on the couch and grabs a blue leash off the coffee table. "Make yourself at home, put your feet up. I'm going to take Max out in the back real quick and then maybe we can order take out or something?"

"Sure," I smile and sit, watching as Max scuffles around while Chris struggles to attach the leash to his collar. He opens the sliding glass door past the kitchen and Max huffs impatiently, waiting for permission.

"Let's go, buddy," Chris says as they both step out, the door closing behind them.

I sit back and look around Chris's place. It's pretty modest; nothing too fancy. He has everything you'd want in a home, but nothing too extravagant. A flat screen television is mounted on the wall across from the couch, a smaller entertainment stand beneath it storing a multitude of home theater goodies. On either side of the couch there are square tables, each with a lamp. One of them has a few framed photos and I scoot closer to look at them. One is Max as a puppy with a rope toy entirely too big for his mouth then. Another is a teenaged Chris with David and their dad and a woman I've never seen before. I can only assume she's his mother. Chris has her eyes. My eyes skirt past it to the next one which is from Mom and Roger's wedding, all of us; Jess, David, Chris, myself, and our parents. Roger has his arms tightly around Mom, kissing her on the cheek and the rest of us are laughing. I love the smile on Mom's face.

I stretch out and bring my ankle up to rest on my knee so I can survey it. I pull my shoe and sock off. My ankle is a little purple and swollen. It definitely feels like it's still twisted and I made it worse by doing too much too soon. I groan and rummage through my bag. I should just always keep it wrapped. My phone slips out and my screen lights up with Bentley's name, having silenced it before the audition. I know he wants to ask how it went, but that can wait for later. I don't feel like getting into a deep conversation about what I'm doing with my life while I'm a guest in someone else's home. I shove my phone back into my bag and begin to wrap my ankle, starting at the arch of my foot.

I hear Max's bark get louder and Chris slides the door open, taking his leash off. Max bounds toward me, barking happily. He jumps up on the couch and runs his tongue across the side of my face. I squeal and rub the slobber off with my shoulder. Chris just laughs and pulls Max off the couch gently by the collar.

"Need help?" He seats himself next to me, removing his cap, watching me work.

"Nah, I got it. Thanks though."

"You're an expert, it seems."

I sigh and nod. "Unfortunately, yes."

"How bad is it?" He props his arm across the back of the couch. If I sit back, his arm could very well be around me.

"I'm pretty sure it's just a sprain. I'll have Bentley look at it tomorrow."

"Who's that?"

I blush, remembering I had already told him about Bentley but not his name.

"Ohhh. Mr. Forbidden Fruit, eh? Is it?"

"Shut up," I laugh. "But yes. He's my instructor."

"Have you talked to him yet? About your audition, I mean? And your ankle?" Max plops down to the ground on top of Chris's feet and Chris gives his head a pat.

"No, I'll call him later when I'm home. I just want to forget about it for a little bit, you know?"

"Sure, yeah. I understand. You know, I'd offer you a tour of the place, but I'm exhausted from carrying you all over, so that'll have to wait until next time," he teases and I sock him in the shoulder playfully. "So how about I call out for Chinese and we catch up or watch a movie. Whatever you feel like."

 

*****

 

Chris snatches the carton of sweet and sour chicken from my hands and digs into it with his fork, stabbing the last piece and shoving it into is mouth as I watch with my jaw practically on the ground. We attempted using the provided chop sticks but failed, finding them much more useful for drumming on each other instead.

"Rude!" I reach over and steal the half eaten egg roll from his plate and take a bite. "That'll teach you," I smile with my mouth full. "No more egg rolls for you, jerk."

Chris moans obnoxiously, eyes rolling back. "So worth it," he says after swallowing.

We laugh as Max watches on from his position in front of the coffee table, ears perked up, alert. His eyes dart back and forth as we move, hoping for a flying piece of food.

Across from us on the TV, Chief Brody has just witnessed the monstrous Great White shark with his very own eyes and backs into the cabin of The Orca exclaiming to it's owner, Quint, "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

Chris takes a swig of his beer and moves the cartons from the center of the table. He scolds Max away from them and Max pouts, turning towards his doggy bed on the other side of the room. He spins in circles two or three times before plopping down, head atop his front paws. Chris lifts his bare feet to the table and gets comfortable next to me, practically lying down, beer in hand. His beer is nearly standing on it's own on his flat stomach. I take a sip of water and place it on the table next to me before I hunker down as he is. He turns his head to me and laughs goofily. Neither of us look comfortable, but surprisingly, we are.

Chris tells me about his work. He accepted a role for a romantic comedy, the same one he had mentioned in his texts weeks before. "It will be a refreshing break from all the action packed work I've been doing lately."

"Is it awkward to kiss someone you're not really attracted to? Or, in that line of work, is it easy to feel something for your screen partner?"

"It's not 'you', you know? You become this entirely different person. You tap into their mentality. Whether or not you find your screen partner desirable, your character does and that's who you are."

"But is it awkward?"

Chris laughs. "Yeah, it can be, at first. The kissing isn't really that bad; it's the sex scenes that are the worst! You're trying to be intimate and romantic or steamy and you have, like, fifty people just staring at you. It can make one feel like they're being judged."

I snicker, bringing my fingers to my lips. Chris follows with his eyes, his smile slowly fading. The instant swelling of the soundtrack for Jaws makes poor Chris jump a bit in his seat, spilling a little beer on his shirt. He sits straight up, placing the bottle on the table. I can't help but laugh at the situation. I sit up and place my bottled water to my lips, still chuckling as I take a sip.

Chris glares at me playfully and swats at the bottom of my bottle as I'm drinking. I snort as water dribbles from my mouth when the bottle breaks away from my lips. I nearly choke and put the water back on the table. 

"Chris!" I glance down at my shirt. I'm definitely more wet than he is.

He's not even sorry. I grab my water to splash some at him, but he's one step ahead of me, grabbing my wrist in his hand to stop me. "No," he scolds while laughing. "Don't you dare!"

Max lifts his head to watch us wrestle with the bottle. His heavy whip of a tail thumps against the hardwood floor as it wags.

I stand trying to overcome Chris but he yanks me back down and tries tickling me to loosen my grip. It definitely works, as I am quite possibly the most ticklish person on the planet. The bottle flies out of my hand, water splashing out over the both of us. I shriek, Chris laughs, and Max barks. Chris won the battle but now it's war. His fingers find my ribs and I'm done for. 

"St-st- no!" I scream and laugh, trying to push his hands off. "Chris, st-stop! I'm gonna pee!"

"Lies," Chris yells, now hovering over me.

I fall back completely and try using my feet to push him away. I'm completely powerless against tickles. I use my strong foot mostly, as my sore ankle is a party pooper lately. Chris just pushes my foot away with his knee, coming in between my legs completely. Now I'm pinned and I have no where to go.

"Uncle! Uncle," I scream through my laughter.

Chris finally stops, resting gently over me. He's laughing, his eyes shining. Now our shirts are soaked and with his air conditioner on, well, you know.

The laughter dies and his eyes are on my lips again. Where is that internal alarm that should be going off in my head right now? I swallow hard and attempt to sit up, thus pushing Chris back.

"It's getting late," I look at my phone.

Chris runs his hands through his hair. "Oh. Right, I'll drive you home." Chris jumps up immediately and grabs as many cartons as he can as well as his beer and my now empty water bottle, and makes a beeline for his kitchen.

I help Chris by grabbing the food containers and pad behind him, softly, so my ankle won't hurt. He places some of the cartons in the refrigerator and others in the trash and turns so fast that he collides into me before I'm able to announce my presence. The two containers of noodles and rice in my hands smash between us and we yelp. Max pounces into action, devouring every scrap of food that hits the floor.

"Oh god!" Chris throws his head back laughing, holding me by the elbows so I don't fall.

I cup the food still on my shirt against my chest, laughing until my sides hurt. Max, having cleaned the mess on the floor already, jumps and barks for more, pushing against my legs. I topple forward, against Chris again. I can barely breathe. Chris walks back, bringing me with him to the sink where I dump the noodles and rice from my shirt.

"Are you some sort of ninja ballerina, Maggie?" Chris jokes. "Make some noise when you enter a room!"

"I'm sorry!" I'm so hyper from all our laughing and I can't stop smiling. I grab a dish rag by the sink and scrub the stuck food off my shirt.

Chris leaves me to clean myself up and shortly returns with one of his own shirts. "Here," he hands it to me. "Change into this until you get home."

I hold it out and smile at the graphic tee. "Captain America? Really?" I snicker and thank him. "Turn around please. I'll be quick."

He gives me a half smile before he does and I quickly pull my shirt up at the hem and over my head, replacing it with his Captain America tee.

"Done."

Chris spins around and claps his hands together once. "Ready to go?"


	4. Chapter Four

Chris drives me all the way back home to Redwood Heights even though I would have preferred to take a cab so he wouldn't waste his gas. However, he insisted and wouldn't take no for an answer. I dread the call to Bentley so I'm happy to put it off a little longer.

Chris pulls in front of my building and I double check that I have all my belongings.

"Thanks again. Can I give you some money for gas? Please?"

Chris dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. "Absolutely not. It's my pleasure."

"But now you're driving all the way back, and, ugh, I just feel terrible."

"It's really not a big deal, Maggie. But if it bothers you this much, you can meet with me for coffee sometime soon and we'll call it even."

Truth is, I don't really want to say goodbye yet. I have no friends outside of dance and I'm having so much fun with him right now. 

"How about now?" I suggest.

Chris cocks his head, "Now?"

"Yeah! Come on! I mean, never mind, I'm sure you want to get back home. I've stolen most of your day away," I laugh nervously.

"Oh, no, now is perfect! My schedule is going to get tight real soon. So, you know, no time like the present."

"Great! Find a spot to park and I'll make you coffee at my place. You can meet _my_ roommate this time. But don't be offended if she ignores you. She tends to keep to herself a lot."

Chris parallel parks a few blocks down since there is hardly ever parking in front of my building. I dig my keys out of my bag as he comes around to my door and opens it for me, helping me out. 

My apartment building is a much older one, complete with a gated elevator lift. Normally I take the stairs because the old lift makes me nervous. Looks like we'll be very well acquainted now. I slide the gate closed and the lift grinds it's way to the third floor where we get off.

Down the hall, I stop in front of my door and unlock it. "Actually, can you give me just two minutes? I never have company so it's a bit of a mess," I bite my lip and scrunch my nose.

"I don't mind, but sure," Chris smiles.

I slip through the door without letting Chris see inside and leave him in the hallway while I hobble around quickly grabbing empty cereal bowls and dirty clothes. I drop my bag on the kitchen table, toss the dirty dishes in the sink and stuff the clothes under my bed for now. 

My cat, Stella, greets me by rubbing herself around my legs, nearly causing me to trip. I bend over and pick her up.

"Be good, Stella." I glare into her eyes and let her drop. She lands softly and meows innocently, but I know better.

I take one last look around and figure it'll have to do. Opening the door, I invite Chris in.

"Please ignore the mess," I grimace.

Chris steps in and curious Stella instantly stops in her tracks, then proceeds to cautiously pad her way to us, keeping a watchful eye over Chris for any sudden movements.

"Wow," Chris grins. "Beautiful cat."

I beam, proudly. Stella is gorgeous. Her long coat of raven black fur is a pain in the ass though. She's the reason I constantly wear dark clothing.

"This is Stella. She won't bite, but she's not fond of others. She doesn't like sharing me," I giggle.

Stella sniffs the toe of Chris's shoe, then rubs her nose against it. A soft purr surprises me as she then circles his feet, rubbing against him with her entire body.

"Well, that's a first." I'm a little stunned. "She's never done that to a total stranger before. She won't even go near Bentley and he's over here a lot."

"I'll take that as a good sign, then?"

"Definitely. Come on in. Do you want decaf or regular? I've got both."

Chris shrugs, "Whatever you're having is fine."

"I think I'm having wine. It's been that kind of day," I huff, blowing my long bangs from my face.

"Understandable. If you don't mind, I'll take a glass too, if that's alright?"

I set out two coffee mugs and fill them halfway with red moscato. Chris seats himself on one of the stools at the kitchen's island. I lean across the top of it on the other side with my elbows, cradling my 'Dance Rulez' mug. Together we silently sip our wine.

Chris takes a look at his mug; black with tiny pink ballet slippers all over. "Cute," he teases.

"Jess gets me a new one every Christmas," I smile. "I have a pretty nice collection going." I step back and open the cabinet containing all my dishes. One entire shelf is full of just mugs.

"Wow! That's a lot," Chris laughs and makes his way around the island to check them out.

"They're all dance related, of course."

I take a sip as Chris pulls down my 'Johnny Castle's School of Dance' mug.

"I carried a watermelon," Chris says looking straight at me and I chortle into my wine. It comes out my nose and I drop my mug, shattering it around our feet.

I grab a dish towel and wipe off my face, laughing. "Of all the Dirty Dancing quotes available, that's the one you go with?!" 

Chris can't stop laughing. "Shit, Maggie, I'm really sorry about your mug," he manages to get out. We both kneel carefully to pick up the shards.

I wipe the wine up with the dish towel, still chuckling at the way Chris delivered that line. We both rise together, dumping the pieces of the mug on the counter. It's a goner.

"Got any glue?" Chris jokes as he turns to me.

The laughter subsides and Stella meows, jealous of all the attention I'm giving Chris. I glance at her as she leaps up to the countertop of the island and clear my throat. I look back at Chris and can see that something has completely shifted within him. 

He reaches his hand up slowly, as though if he moves too fast, I might disappear before him. I hold my breath as his hand ghosts across my cheek, his fingers barely grazing me as he tucks a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. I see him swallow hard as he takes a step closer.

I put my hand up against his chest keeping him where he is. "Chris..." I mean to tell him this can't happen. I mean tell him he needs to leave. But then my hand drops and he closes the distance between us, cupping my face with his hands. 

I step back until I bump against the wall. Chris presses his forehead against mine and we both breathe heavily. My hands find themselves wrapped around his waist, not exactly embracing him, but also not pushing him away.

"Tell me not to kiss you," he whispers.

I look up from his lips and into his eyes. "Don't kiss me."

"I need you to mean it."

This time, I swallow hard. "I can't."

Chris groans and closes his eyes. Every single one of my senses are alert and craving stimulation.

"Dammit, Maggie." He releases me and backs away.

Without another word, he walks straight out of my apartment, leaving me practically paralyzed against the wall.


	5. Chapter Five

For Southern California, the weather has been a little chilly this early in the fall. I was relieved this morning when my ankle looked and felt back to normal and decided to make the walk to the studio instead of asking Bentley for a ride. I still haven't called him back. I figured I'd speak to him at the studio instead.

I shiver a little and adjust my dance bag, mentally preparing myself to face Bentley. I know he's not going to be happy. Inside, I can hear him barking orders to other dancers. I peek into the studio room he's in and watch for a minute. His hands are on his hips and he's intently eyeing the feet of his dancers, his blond hair slicked back. He is a handsome guy but just looking at him you would think he's grumpy. Unless he's smiling, it's hard to tell what's going through his mind.

Bentley sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "Take five."

The dancers walk out the door past me, some of them greeting me. Bentley finally sees me and gives a little smile.

"Hi," I smile back, leaning against the frame of the door.

"Hey you. Come here."

I push off the frame with my elbow and saunter toward him, dropping my bag to the floor. The room is empty except for us, so I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face against his chest.

"I called you," I hear him whisper into my hair.

I pull back and frown. "I know, I'm sorry. I ran into my step-brother and we hung out for a little bit. I meant to call you back and I just got too tired and forgot."

Bentley looks up and out the door for witnesses before pressing his lips against mine quickly. 

"So? How was it?"

I shake my head and frown. "I hurt my ankle again."

Bentley sighs and rolls his eyes. I know he doesn't mean to hurt my feelings but he has a hard time holding back his immediate reactions.

"I forgot to wrap it up and I'm sorry. I screwed up." My voice cracks. I hate disappointing him.

"Sit. Let me take a look." Bentley kneels and waits for me to join him on the floor.

I sit before him and place my foot in his hands. He gently removes my boot and sock, then presses around my ankle, bending it and pointing my foot in different directions. I choke back a whimper I feel trying to escape my throat.

"I don't know, Maggie. It's hard to say without an x-ray but you might have a stress fracture."

"No! I'm sure that's not it. It's just sore, Bentley. Really. I'm fine." I pull my foot away from him.

"Mags, I can't let you dance tomorrow if you're injured."

I stand and grab my boot and sock. "I'm fine. Really. I'll be fine."

"Maggie," Bentley stands and reaches for me but I step away and pick up my bag.

"I need to get ready. I'll see you." I leave the room and head for the dressing room, praying he's wrong.

I push open the door to the dressing room, happy to find it empty. I sit at my vanity table and turn the lights above the mirror on. Staring at the flyer taped to the mirror, I slump back into my seat. 

'Berkley Academy of Dance Presents, for One Night Only, Senior Dancers Showcase - Starring Principal Dancers Maggie Buchanan and Bentley McCarthy'

I bring my knees up and hug them to my chest. Bentley and I have a routine together as well as one solo each. It's Bentley's last year to participate as a dancer since he's being taken on as a full time instructor and choreographer. I can't let him down. It means too much to him. I brush away a tear and begin to tape up my ankle and toes.

 

*****

 

After hours of practice, Bentley calls it a night right when I begin to worry about my ankle again. I breathe a sigh of relief and wipe down my forehead and neck with my towel. I linger in the studio, sinking to the floor along the mirror, sipping my water while the others leave. Ever since Chris left me hanging, I've been a little, well, horny.

I haven't spoken to him yet and I'm not sure if I want to. We are family. Maybe not by blood, but still. We cannot kiss. It's too weird. It's just not right. He is my step-brother and I should not be thinking about the way his lips would feel against the swells of my breasts.

Bentley snaps me back to reality by sitting across from me, cross legged. "You okay?"

"Just tired," I smile.

Bentley leans back on his hands and looks me up and down. I bring my legs in, sitting the same way he is, and scoot forward until I'm directly in front of him. He sits back up and leans toward me. Eye to eye, we stare until I give in and blink first, my eyes watering. Bentley smirks and leans back on his hands again.

"Do you want to come over tonight?" I ask him, double checking that no one is around to hear us.

"I thought you said you were tired?"

I wiggle my eyebrows at him. "I'm not _that_ tired."

Bentley chuckles and touches my nose before hopping up. "You're cute, Maggie. I don't think it's a good idea though. We both need our rest. Sorry."

His rejection doesn't surprise me but of course it still hurts. "No, you're right. I'll see you tomorrow."

In the dressing room, I change out of my dance shoes and pull on some sweats. Pulling my hair tie out, I dig through my bag for a brush and see a missed call from my mom on my phone. I dial her number and brush my hair out as I wait for her to pick up.

"Maggie! Hi sweetie! Thanks for calling me back." My mom's voice immediately cheers me up.

"Hi, Mom. Miss you!" I take a seat and rub my ankle. I consider telling her about it but decide against it. She'll just worry and tell me to get it checked out by a doctor. I don't have time for that right now.

"I was calling to make sure you get a recording of your pieces tomorrow for us."

"Oh, sure. I'll do that. How is home? How are Jess and Roger?"

"Oh! That's another reason I'm calling. Chris called Roger earlier and said he ran into you yesterday! I'm so happy that you guys get along. It means a lot to Roger and I."

"Yeah..." 

"It's not easy to suddenly have new siblings when you're an adult but I'm proud of you. How did your audition thing go? Did you get the part?"

"Uh, no, they decided to go with someone else instead. Maybe next time." I hate lying to her.

"Well poo. Sorry, honey."

I stuff my shoes and hair tie into my bag and pull out my hoodie. "Well thanks Mom. Look, I've gotta go, but I'll call you tomorrow after the showcase and let you know how it went."

"Oh! Why don't you invite Chris?"

"Chris?" Nooo. Bad idea Mom. Bad.

"Yeah! He's never seen you dance, he lives nearby... why not? Please? For me?"

I bite my lip and move the phone away from my mouth as I groan. I bring it back and agree to call him.

"Love you, sweetie!"

"Love you, too. Say 'hi' to everyone."

 

*****

 

In bed, I lean back with my foot propped up on a stack of pillows, a bag of peas resting on top. Stella purrs sleepily on my stomach as I scratch behind her ears.

I know my mom will ask Chris if I invited him so I might as well just get it over with. I scroll through the contacts on my phone and press on his name. The line rings twice before he answers.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Maggie."

He's silent for a few seconds before replying. "Hi Maggie."

"I, uh, I'm actually calling to see if you're busy tomorrow night? I mean, I'm sure you are, it's just that I have this showcase and it's a one time only kind of thing. Mom thought it would be a good idea to invite you, but I totally understand if you don't want to come." I take a breath.

"What time?"

"Seven. At the school. It's twenty bucks a person but I --"

"Okay."

I swallow hard, not sure I heard him correctly. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. I'd love to see you dance."

A smile creeps across my face. "Yeah?"

"Maggie, I'm really sorry about last night. I feel like an ass. I put you in a compromising position and I should know better. Forgive me?"

His apology takes me by surprise. I just assumed we would pretend it never happened and fantasize about it secretly.

"Don't worry about, Chris. Already forgotten."

We hang up after chatting for a few minutes. I kick the bag of peas off, roll over until Stella moves, then fall asleep with a smile on my face.


	6. Chapter Six

I peek out the curtain and into the audience. The crowd buzzes with conversation and it heightens my adrenaline. I spot Chris several rows back as he stands to let an elderly lady take the seat next to him. And bless him, he has flowers in his hands; pink peonies.

I chew my lip and smile before turning to line up with the rest of the dancers on stage left. The house lights dim, letting the audience know the show is about to begin. The dull roar quiets down and the music begins to play. The curtain parts and all the dancers except for Bentley and I leap across the stage, perfectly in sync. Bentley gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Be brilliant," he whispers into my ear, lingering to kiss it.

I will be brilliant.

The first number wraps up and the audience roars with applause. As they should, considering Bentley choreographed it.

I breathe slowly once the lights dim again and take my position in the center of the stage. It's time for my first solo of the evening. Bentley and I have worked hard on this entire showcase for a year. I swallow my fear and the music begins, the spot light growing, casting a blinding beam down upon me. The music takes me away. I breathe in the beats and the swells and am so overcome with the emotion of the piece. I feel unstoppable; a force to be reckoned with. I was put on this earth to dance and I believe that with every fiber of my being. My pirouettes feel perfect and I see Bentley watching since my focus point is right where he's standing. I can tell he's proud.

My piece is nearly over. I gently fall back into my final position and curl myself up, the music ending. The lights go out and the audience cheers. There is no feeling like this. My heart feels like it's outside of my body. I rise and step off the stage to the side Bentley is on and he gives me a hug.

"Perfect, Maggie!"

As the night goes on, Bentley completes his first solo, the company does another routine, and then there is an intermission which passes quicker than I would have liked. No matter how many times I take the stage, I will never be able to get rid of the butterflies I feel before each dance. I use the intermission time to psych myself up in the dressing room. The house lights dim twice, signaling the showcase is about to continue.

My next solo is a more lively and fun contemporary piece. I put it together myself and Bentley helped me make adjustments where needed. He said I definitely have the talent for choreography as well. So needless to say, this piece is important to me.

Halfway through it, my confidence wavers when I can feel the pain in my ankle return with a vengeance. I dance through the pain and hold back my tears. I'm relieved when my solo is over and I run back to the dressing room to re-tape my ankle. Maybe I hadn't done it well enough the first time.

Bentley takes the stage for his final solo and I wish I could be there to watch but I must get changed. I hear the thunderous applause and smile for Bentley. I have no doubt he was perfect.

The dance company dances their final routine. I listen to their music as I rush, trying to re-tape my foot and change into my final costume. I know when their dance is over and I make it back to the stage in time for the audience to cheer for a job well done.

The final routine of the showcase is the dance Bentley choreographed for the two of us. It's a steamy and romantic number about a toxic relationship where neither partner can easily say goodbye. It's choreographed to Jason Mraz's 'If It Kills Me' and it's quite possibly my most favorite dance I've ever done. It's full of raw emotion and is part of, if not mainly, the reason Bentley and I began seeing each other secretly. The piece ends with our clothes torn and our lips on each other. After completing it in rehearsals for the first time, we continued kissing and full-on made out until I invited him back to my place.

The music starts and I slowly strut to the center of the stage, Bentley coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. I throw him off and am once again lost in the dance. It all becomes muscle memory and emotion. I don't even have to _think_ ; I just have to _be_. 

I have forgotten about my ankle until I do a triple spin as I leap into Bentley's arms. I feel a sharp pop and yelp. Luckily, my cry can easily be mistaken as a part of the routine. I continue as best as I can but I just want to cry. I have a hard time holding the tears back so I just let them fall. Don't worry folks, it's all part of the show.

Bentley wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me down to the floor with him. I slowly lean back and he towers above me, bringing his mouth to mine. We don't truly kiss like we used to during private rehearsals. For the sake of our secret and the audience, we merely touch lips.

Before the lights even go out, I push Bentley off of me and beg him to help me up. The audience awkwardly claps, not sure if our routine is still going or if something else is happening. Once the light is completely out, the applause builds up.

"What happened?!" Bentley shouts over the roar of the crowd.

"My ankle! Something fucking snapped!"

"God dammit, Maggie! I told you, you should have been pulled out!"

"Shut up and get me to hospital, Bentley!" I grab onto him for support as we get off the stage.

Someone else pulls up a chair for me and I graciously thank them, taking a seat. Bentley carefully tugs my dance slipper off and touches my foot. I cry out, trying so hard not to scream in his ear.

"Please don't touch it, Bentley!"

The house manager rushes up to us. "Curtain call! Final curtain call!"

Bentley stutters, unsure of what to do. The other dancers look around anxiously. "Do you want me to carry you to the stage real quick? And then we'll leave as soon as we bow?"

I sniffle and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "No, go without me. Just hurry!"

Each dancer is announced and one by one, they grace the center of the stage and receive applause. Of course, they skip my name and Bentley's is last. Flashes of pain shoot through my leg and I'm about to grab the guy who controls the curtain to beg him to call an ambulance.

Finally Bentley rushes back and he drags me out of the auditorium. Unfortunately, the only exits lead towards the same hallways the audience has to use to leave the building. By the time we make it to the hallway, it's already congested with families and friends of all the dancers. Some people part once they realize Bentley is half carrying, half dragging a crying dancer. Some are completely oblivious and congratulate Bentley and I on our last piece. Bentley of course stops to thank them, relishing in the praise.

I spot Chris looking a little helpless, not sure exactly where to go. I imagine he's confused since they didn't call my name at the end and I never came to the curtain to curtsey. 

I shout out for him, trying hard to be louder than the roar of the crowd. I feel completely suffocated right now and need fresh air.

"Chris! Chris!" I scream for him while Bentley yanks me up with one arm as he hugs another dancer with his other arm. Chris hears me and turns immediately. Seeing my face, he quickly snakes through the crowd towards me. "God dammit, Bentley, just let me go!" I push his arm off of me and stagger forward until Chris is able to wrap his arms around me.

"What the hell happened, Maggie?" He eyes my foot and already knows the answer. With one fell swoop, he lifts me off my feet and carefully pushes through the sea of people until we are out of the building and into the chill night air. The peonies I saw with him earlier now sit in my lap as he carries me to his car.

 

*****

 

Chris holds my hand while I sit on the examination table as we wait for the doctor to return with my x-ray results. I've finally stopped crying since they've given me something to manage the pain.

"Sorry I'm such a baby. I have a very low tolerance for pain." I look up at him and he smiles.

"You're not a baby, Maggie."

"I'm really glad you came tonight."

He squeezes my hand as the doctor comes in. 

"Well, it appears to be a type A lateral malleolus fracture," Dr. Kapoor explains. He slides the x-ray image in place on the light box and switches it on. Pointing to the broken fibula, he goes on to explain that since my ankle appears to be stable, no surgery will be necessary. 

"Thank god," I exclaim, breathing easily for the first time since I've arrived to the hospital tonight.

"You will, however, need to come back every few weeks for more x-rays just to be sure it is healing right on track."

"Will I be able to dance, still?" I brace myself for the answer and probably squeeze poor Chris's hand tighter than I intend to.

"No, no, no. I'm sorry, but absolutely not. No dancing until after we see how it heals. And even after then, you may have to hang up your dancing shoes, my dear. I'm very sorry to say so. You might be able to dance some, but no fancy tricks. And that's being optimistic."

I'm absolutely crushed. Just like that, my entire world has come crumbling down. I stare down at my feet and I can no longer make sense of the words coming out of the doctor's mouth.

He shakes my hand first, and then Chris's and Chris thanks him. A nurse comes in afterwards with a boot and fastens it to my foot. "Dr. Kapoor would like you to use either this boot or wear a pair of high tops for the next six weeks. You'll be sore for a while but you have your prescription if you need it." Chris thanks her and she leaves us alone again.

"Maggie?" Chris tugs my hand. "We can go now. Are you going to puke?"

"Hmm?"

"You're green," Chris hunches down to my eye-line. "Are you okay?"

"I can't dance, Chris." I'm all dried up. Either that, or I'm in shock. I have no more tears at the moment.

Chris frowns and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight. "For what it's worth, watching you tonight was the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

I laugh humorlessly and hug him back. "Can you take me home now?"

 

*****

Chris helps me into my apartment and all the way to my bedroom. Stella greets us with a disinterested yawn before darting off in the opposite direction.

I plop back on my bed and groan loudly and obnoxiously. 

"What are you going to do?" He sits at the end of my bed.

I shake my head, tears finally falling again. "I have absolutely no idea. I have no back up plan. I know nothing but dance."

"I'm so sorry, Maggie. I can't imagine how you must feel right now."

"I want to be alone," I say after a few minutes of silence.

Chris looks hurt and I regret my lousy choice of words.

"Sorry, Chris. Thanks for all your help. I just want to wallow in self-pity right now." I feel pathetic.

"I'll give you an hour."

"What?"

He stands and heads for the bedroom door. "I'll give you an hour to scream, cry, wail, whatever you have to do. Then you come out here and eat dinner with me. Okay?"

I scoff in surprise but smile. "Sure. Thanks Chris."

He steps into the hall and closes the door, leaving me alone to mourn what might as well be my own death.


	7. Chapter Seven

"I hope you don't mind me going through your kitchen," Chris smiles when I perch myself up on the stool and sulk at the island. "It's nothing fancy," he says as he pushes a plate of spaghetti before me, "but it's all I could find."

I notice he placed my peonies in a vase and placed them on the counter. I pick up my fork and move the pasta around my plate, not really hungry. He fixes a plate for himself and joins me. In order to spare his feelings, I take a small bite and chew slowly.

"So. What's the plan?" Chris takes a big bite and waits for my answer.

I shrug. "I don't know. I have to talk with Bentley."

"You haven't talked to him yet? I mean, since you've been home?"

I shake my head and stab more spaghetti with my fork and twirl it around.

"Has he called?"

"No."

Chris gently puts his fork down and turns to face me. "He does know you were hurt, right?"

"Yes Chris. He was there when it happened."

"I don't even know him and I really don't like him."

I continue to push my food around. "Tonight was a big night for him, Chris. He's busy and most likely celebrating with the rest of the dance company."

"It's bullshit, Maggie." He turns his attention back to his food. "How's your foot?"

I look down at it, dangling in it's boot. "The pain killers are working. It's just dully throbbing now."

"You're probably supposed to keep it elevated and not hanging like that." He takes another bite and watches me as he chews.

I push my plate away. "What's the point."

"What, you don't want to keep your foot?"

I glare at him. "You know what I mean."

"Maggie, I know it seems like the end of the world for you, but there is so much more to you than just dance." Chris takes my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles. "I knew you as a person before I ever saw you dance and you have a lot to offer besides your talent."

I chew my lip and watch his thumb as it sweeps back and forth, goosebumps prickling up my arms. I look up at him and ask, "Why are you here?"

"Because you need me."

"I can make my own shitty spaghetti."

"Wow. Okay, I'm going to let that slide. You're not having a great day, I get it." Chris stands and takes my plate away along with his. He scrapes the food into the trash bin and puts the dishes in the sink.

"I'm sorry." I really am. I drop my head. Truth is, I am a little upset Bentley isn't here. Am I needy for wishing the guy I've been fooling around with would show some concern for my life-changing injury?

Right then, my cellphone rings in my pocket. I dig it out, with the hopes Bentley is finally checking up on me. Instead, it's Brigit, one of the other dancers.

"Do you want me to leave?" Chris quickly asks before I answer the phone.

"No, stay, please. I'm sorry for being a bitch. Just give me a minute," I spin around in my stool and answer the call.

"Maggie! Oh my god, are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?" Brigit's shrill voice practically pierces my eardrums. She typically has a high voice but when she's trying to be loud, for example, over the music and crowd of the party she's apparently at, it can be near fatal.

"Hi Brigit. Uh, no. I'm not okay, actually. My ankle snapped, basically."

"Oh my god! Oh my god, no! That's terrible! Hold on," I hear her shout to someone else before she continues to talk to me. "We were wondering if you were going to show up."

"Show up where?"

"To the party, silly."

"Brigit, did you hear me just say that my ankle is broken?"

Brigit shouts again to someone else. "Didn't they give you crutches?"

"Okay, look. I'm gonna go. I don't want to say something I'll regret later. If Bentley is there, can you tell him something for me?" I spin back to the counter of the island. "Can you just tell him 'fuck you' for me? Thanks. Good night."

I end the call and throw my phone to the couch.

"Wow," Chris marveled. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

I gently slip off the stool and hobble to the couch. "I need wine."

"I don't think that's a good--"

"Please, Chris," my voice cracks as I throw myself back next to Stella. Stella stretches and climbs on my lap. 

I bury my face into Stella's thick fur, finding comfort in her throaty purrs. The couch cushions shift and I glance up to see Chris holding out a small mug of wine for me.

"Thanks," I sigh. I take a big gulp and moan happily as it slides down my throat. "That's better."

"Lush," Chris teases.

"Not true," I elbow him. 

"Honestly, though, Maggie; you're going to be just fine."

"Maybe. What hurts the most is that it was all for nothing. I've lost so many friends and opportunities to date because dancing was more important to me than anything else. I left my own family behind, probably when they needed me most, because I had to be a professional dancer and nothing else."

"You know your mom and Jess understand."

"Do they? Jess transferred from a university to a community college to be near Mom. It's supposed to go the other way. I left to make my life better and she made the sacrifices my mom needed. I'm such a shit daughter."

"Don't say that, Maggie." Chris scoots closer, his arm behind me. "If your dad were here right now, what do you think he would say? Would he be disappointed or proud?"

A lump forms in my throat and my eyes blur with tears. "My dad?" I look up and imagine him sitting in front of me. "He'd tell me to quit belly-aching," I giggle and the tears fall.

Chris gives me a side-smile, looking up at me through his lashes. "He'd be proud, though, right?"

"Yes. He would be. He supported me from day one." I place my mug on the table, my sudden movement causing Stella to leap off my lap. "The drugs are making me drowsy," I admit.

"You should get some sleep. I'll go." Chris removes his arm and pushes away to stand.

"No, you don't have to. I really don't want to be alone right now, Chris."

"Okay."

The way he's so easily persuaded makes me laugh. "You're like a puppy, Chris. So loyal."

"I've been called worse," he smirks.

"Can we... Can you hold me?" I blush as I ask. 

Chris's eyes seem to light up and he smiles. "Of course. Here, lean back and prop your foot up."

I mould my back against Chris and he wraps his arms around me. My foot rests on the end of the couch and I yawn. I haven't been this exhausted since... well, since my dad died.

"Are you going to fall asleep?" He whispers into my hair. 

"No," I yawn and giggle.

"It's okay if you do."

"Will you keep talking to me?"

Chris snuggles into me a bit and rests his head on mine. "What should I talk about?"

"Max. Tell me about Max. When you got him, how you named him, stuff like that." I yawn again and close my eyes.

Before I know it, I'm out cold and I have no idea how much time has passed when loud banging comes from the door of my apartment. Chris and I are both startled. I glance at my phone and it's nearly 1am. 

"Could it be a neighbor?" Chris suggests when I sit up.

The banging resumes, so I stand and stagger toward the door as fast as I can. The last thing I need is a neighbor calling the cops with a noise complaint. I peer through the peep hole and groan.

"Shit. It's Bentley."

He bangs the door with his fist again and I unlock it, pulling it open.

"For god's sake, Bentley. You're going to wake my neighbors!" I step back as he pushes past me. I close the door quietly, though I'm pretty sure it's too late and all my neighbors hate me.

"You didn't come tonight. I was worried." He stops in his tracks when he sees Chris on the couch.

"Who's this?" He cocks his head to me, waiting for a response.

Chris stands. "I'm the guy who took Maggie to the hospital because apparently you were too busy."

Oh no.

I interject quickly. "Bentley, this is Chris, my step-brother. He came to the show tonight. Chris, this is Bentley, my... my inst--"

"Boyfriend," Bentley cuts me off.

"No, you're not my--"

"You're a pretty shitty boyfriend, Bentley," Chris says, matter-of-factly. 

My jaw drops and I instinctively put my hand up on Bentley's chest to keep him in place.

"Excuse me?" Bentley's chest puffs out.

"Stop it! Bentley, why are you here?"

"Brigit said you broke your ankle. God, I can't believe it, Mags." He kneels in front of me, running his hand down my calf muscle. "Will you still be able to continue dancing?"

Chris crosses his arms and watches us. Bentley rises again to his full height, meeting my eyes. I swallow hard and shake my head.

"No? Wow. Fuck. Maggie, I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't. Don't 'baby' me right now, okay? It's been a terrible night and I just want to get some sleep so I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do tomorrow."

"Did you hear that, man? Time for you to go," Bentley addresses Chris.

Chris scoffs. "She _was_ sleeping just fine until you showed up."

"You know, you have a major attitude problem. You don't even know me." Bentley takes a step closer to Chris but it doesn't faze him in the slightest.

Chris narrows his eyes, checking Bentley out before a smile spreads across his face. "That shade doesn't compliment your skin tone, my friend," pointing to his cheek.

I step back towards Chris and spot bright pink lip prints around his Bentley's cheek. It's smeared near his mouth, as if he had tried to wipe it off but failed in doing so. Bentley and I were never exclusive. We weren't even supposed to be seeing each other. But it still hurts. The fact that he wanted to kiss me, even though it was risky, made me feel special. Like I was worth the risk.

"Wow Bentley. You care so much that not only did you stop and chat with people when I needed a doctor, but you went out and partied and apparently had a very good time with another lady friend. You don't deserve the title of being my boyfriend. You are a fucking prick and I want you out of my apartment right now." I'm too tired to deal with this right now. I push him back to the door, encouraging him to leave.

"Mags, come on. You know what you mean to me." Bentley takes my hands and holds them to his chest. "You were nothing more than a really good fuck. Maybe if you can't dance, you can strip instead," he jeered. "You were always good at that."

Chris starts for him but I pull my hand back and smack Bentley across the face before he reaches us.

Bentley just laughs, gently palming the sting on his cheek. "Oh, Maggie. You always did like it rough."

Chris no longer holds back. Immediately he grabs Bentley by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. "Apologize to her."

Bentley throws his hands up in surrender, still chuckling. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry Maggie."

Chris releases him, his jaw set in anger. "If you ever speak to her that way again, I'll break both of your ankles."

"No worries. No worries. I'm leaving." Bentley smirks, his hands still raised. I open the door for him and he steps out. "Bye Mags." He winks and I slam the door.

"Oh my god." I groan in frustration. "He was so drunk, Chris. I've never seen him like that."

"Don't make excuses for him, Maggie."

I shake my head. "No, I'm not. I'm not. God. I'm just glad you were here."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Really." We look at each other for the longest time until Stella rubs up against my legs. 

"Maybe I should go," Chris sinks his hands into his pockets.

I nod, agreeing. "I'm going to take my pain-killers and pass out in bed." I step up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing tight. Chris's hands run up my back, holding me against him, hugging back. "Thank you. For everything. Seriously, I can't thank you enough."

"Don't worry about it. Thank you for inviting me tonight. I'm sorry things ended up the way they did." I feel his lips in my hair and I sigh against his chest. Why does he have to be my step-brother?

Against my better judgment, I look up, resting my chin against his chest. I know I'm treading on dangerous ground. 

Chris looks pained but he shares a tiny grin. "I really wish our parents weren't married."

"Why do you say that?" I ask, innocently.

"I really want to kiss you."

The way his voice lowers makes me clench the muscles of my thighs together. I bite my lip, trying to keep myself composed.

"I'm not stopping you."

His cheeks flush and he chuckles. "You shouldn't tease me like that."

"Who's teasing?" My hands shake but I wrap them behind his neck and slowly bring him down to meet my lips.

Our hearts pound against each other and our lips lightly touch, feather soft. His lips were made for kissing. I giggle at the way his scruff brushes against my chin.

Chris chuckles and pulls back. "Sorry. I should have shaved this morning."

"No! I like it."

"Good. Because I hate shaving." He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose and pulls my hands down from his neck. "I better go before I get in trouble."

I open the door for him and he gives me a single wave. I close the door and watch him depart through the peep hole. Once he's out of sight, I let out a huge sigh of relief. 

"Oh boy, Stella. What did I just do..."

Stella stares at me, blankly. I take my medicine with a large glass of water and carefully climb in bed, wishing Chris would have insisted on staying.


	8. Chapter Eight

I had a terrible night of sleep. Or maybe it was a pretty good night for someone with a broken ankle? I would finally be tired enough to drift and then the gut-wrenching reminder of my dance-less future would bombard my mind. I called my mom at 8am Boston time and told her everything. We cried together and she encouraged me to move back home until I could figure out what to do. I can't believe it, but I'm actually considering it.

I lazily flip through the tv channels finding absolutely nothing to hold my attention. I'm just about to doze off on the couch with Stella in my lap when my phone alerts me of a text.

**From: Chris  
Good Morning :)**

Aw. A smiley face from Chris. That must mean he doesn't regret last night's kiss. I don't either. I brush over my lower lip with my fingers and smile.

**To: Chris  
Same to you :)**

**From: Chris  
Hungry??**

**To: Chris  
Always.**

I hold my phone, waiting for a reply. I'm beginning to think that was it, the entire conversation, when he sends me a picture of donuts.

**To: Chris  
Please tell me you're on your way over with those babies**

**From: Chris  
Be there in 5**

I shove Stella off of my lap and struggle to stand. The chunky boot is a pain in the ass, but it could be worse. I just have to keep reminding myself that I could be needing surgery. I hobble into the bathroom and brush my teeth and tie my hair up off of my face. I splash cold water over myself to wake up a bit more but now I'm just tired and cold.

When I turn the bathroom light off, there's a gentle rap on the front door. 

"Hey, you," I smile when I open it. Chris holds up the box of donuts and gives me a cheesy smile.

"I hope you don't like jelly. They only had one left and, sorry, but it's mine." Chris strides right in, opening the box. I stick my hand in and snatch the sugary jelly donut before he is out of reach. Chris yanks the box away but it's too late. It's mine.

He tosses the box to the kitchen counter then chases after me for the donut. I barely make it back to the couch before he reaches me. I raise my jelly donut clenching hand away from him, blocking him with my other arm.

"Not fair, Maggie," Chris laughs.

I bring the donut to my mouth and give it a long lick. "It's mine now. I licked it."

"Like that's going to stop me," he narrows his eyes and smacks my hand with the donut in it, attempting to get me to drop it. "Fine. It's yours. I'll just have myself a boring Boston cream."

I beam proudly and sit on the couch. "Speaking of Boston, I have something to tell you. Would you pour me some orange juice please?"

Chris joins me on the couch with the box of donuts in one hand and two mugs of orange juice in the other. I make sure he sees that I'm about to take a big bite out of his stolen donut and he glares at me, smirking.

"You don't have to rub it in," he says, placing everything on the coffee table. "But I will!" He smushed the donut against my mouth as I bite it, jelly smearing all over my chin.

"Chris!" I can't help but laugh at how incredibly childish we are being right now. I lick around my chin, trying to save whatever jelly I can.

"You got a little down there..." Chris laughs, pointing to the end of his own chin.

"You are such a jerk," giggle, standing to get a napkin.

"Let me." Smiling with his eyes, Chris returns with a napkin, handing it to me. 

I wipe off my mouth and look at him, eyebrows arched. "Did I get it all?"

Chris smirks and moves closer. "Here," he says as he reaches forward with another napkin. He wipes my chin, keeping his eyes on mine.

"I'm sorry for stealing your donut," I say seriously as I wipe jelly from my finger onto his chin. "There. Now we match."

Chris shakes his head in amusement. "If you weren't injured, I would be rubbing my chin all over your face right now, you know that?" He leans forward, smiling and I meet his lips with my own, the jelly tasting better than ever.

I sigh against him and we slowly pull away. I feel woozy just kissing him. 

"So," he props his feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. "What's this about Boston?"

I sip my juice and nod. "I talked with my mom this morning about everything."

"Yeah? How'd that go?"

"She may have cried harder than I did," I tease. "Actually, she suggested I move back home for a little while."

Chris looks up, considering the idea. "Yeah?"

"And I think it might be a good idea. Just until I figuring out what I'm doing. Maybe I'll go back to school, I don't know."

"It can be fun not knowing. School would be an awesome idea."

"I don't know. But, yeah. It's just..." I cross my arms, not believing I'm thinking this, but it can't be helped.

"What?"

"I'll miss you. It's dumb, but I like spending time with you. So yeah, if that's what I end up doing, I'll miss you."

Chris stares at his feet, grinning. "Not dumb, Maggie." He peers over at me and I can feel my cheeks heat up. "All things considered though, it sounds like the best option for you right now."

I sit back and prop my feet up next to his and chew my donut. Boston it is.

 

*****

 

I spend the next two days scrubbing down my apartment while listening (but not dancing) to music. It takes a lot out of me, dragging my useless leg around with me but I keep taking breaks. After finishing the bathroom, I lie down on the couch and catch my breath. 

Brigit stopped by earlier with all of my things from the studio. Bentley called me a few times but, each time, I let it go straight to voicemail. The one time he did leave a message, it was to offer to bring my things by. That's when I called Brigit and begged her to get my things from Bentley so I didn't need to see him again. I knew I could depend on her because she doesn't ask questions and that's exactly what I need right now.

Chris has been busy shooting for his new movie but promised he would help me pack. I'm not sure what's going on with us. The real problem is that absolutely nothing _should_ be going on with us. It's not right, but it's also not exactly wrong, is it?

Maybe it's a good thing to put some distance between us. Things will fizzle and die down and we can go back to just being friends and nothing more. When he comes over, I will lay down the law and tell him that what's happened in LA stays in LA. For the sake of our parents. And my sanity.

I'm thankful I moved into a furnished apartment so I won't been needing to lug anything back to Boston other than my personal belongings. It won't take too long to pack everything up, but I still dread it. It's like officially closing the door on my career as a dancer. Right on cue, before I can spiral further into depression, Chris knocks on the door and I let him in.

His hair is wet and he brushes it out of his eyes, looking me over. He frowns, "You don't look rested, Maggie. What have you been up to?"

"Cleaning."

He shakes his head, closing the door behind him.

"I need my security deposit back! I have to. Is it raining outside?"

"You could have asked me for help. And yes."

"You have your own life, Chris. It's fine, I got it all done, I just need to finish packing now."

Chris follows me to pack up my DVDs and books next to the couch. "You're going to over exert yourself. I hate to be bossy, but sit down and get that leg up, Maggie. I mean it."

I chew my lip to keep from laughing. He doesn't do bossy well. But I follow his direction anyway and lie back on the couch, foot up on the arm rest.

"Try to fit everything in one box, please." Chris nods and does his best. Once all my books and DVDs are packed away, he looks at me for further instruction.

I shrug and say, "That's all that is mine out here. Now I just need to pack up my clothes and everything in the bathroom." I push myself up on my elbows and swing my feet off the side of the couch.

"Nope!" Chris stands, not allowing me to get up. "Foot up."

"Chris, I'm not letting you pack my clothes alone. You don't need to be going through my ... unmentionables..." I blush, embarrassed to think of him rooting through my underwear drawer.

Chris smirks and hunches down next to me, gently slipping an arm underneath my knees and behind my back. He lifts me with ease and I wrap my arms around his neck.

"I always seem to end up in your arms," I tease him.

Chris carries me down the hall to my bedroom with a little smile. "Maybe it's because that's where you belong."

His words take me by surprise and I look up at him, trying to gauge his train of thought. He stares straight ahead until we reach my room. Placing me on the bed, he turns to finish folding the mountain of clothes I attempted to attack this morning. I quickly reach out and grab his hand before he steps away.

"Hmm?" He looks at me, waiting for me to boss him around, I suppose. 

"I-" I don't even know what I had planned on saying. I just wanted him to look at me. And now that he is, I can't think straight.

Chris furrows his brows and frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I sigh. "Just... I wanted to thank you." I lick my lips and smile. Chris drops his eyes to my mouth and I feel myself clench at the way he's looking at me.

"Anything else?"

"No. No, not really. But while you do that," I point to the pile of clothes, "I'll take care of my underwear drawer." Before he can scold me for unnecessarily being on my feet, I throw up my hands. "Just let me do this one thing and then I swear I will rest."

He doesn't say a word, and I pass him, watching him through the mirror as I open the dresser drawers. His eyes are watching my backside and he blushes when he notices I see him. His lips twitch and he chuckles before turning away.

A clap of thunder scares me and I make a little noise. Stella runs into the room and darts under the bed. I'd join her if I could fit. I peer at Chris through the mirror but he's not bothered at all, rolling up my shirts and stuffing them into my suitcase.

I take a deep breath and begin to hum 'Once Upon a December' from Anastasia, a song my dad would sing with me whenever it would storm. I'm lost in my little world, gathering my skimpy and not so skimpy knickers that I don't even notice Chris behind me until I sense him and look up, seeing him in the mirror. I abruptly stop humming and blush. His reflection watches me and his hands find their way to my waist. He kisses my neck and lightly sways, moving me along with him.

"What was that you were humming?"

I lean back and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me against him. "A song my dad would sing to me."

"It sounds familiar."

"It's from the movie Anastasia," I grin, turning my neck to see his face.

"Ah. I don't think I've seen that since I was a kid."

Thunder booms, shaking the apartment. I hold onto Chris's hands around my waist and close my eyes.

"Sorry," I laugh, nervously. "I hate storms." I open my eyes and no matter how hard I try, I can't keep the tears away. They stem from fear and embarrassment together. "God, I feel like every time I see you, I'm crying."

"Lots of people are scared of storms. Don't be embarrassed. David used to piss himself whenever it would thunder. And I grew up sharing a bed with him until I was ten. Do you have any ideas how many thunderstorms can happen within a span of ten years?"

I laugh, lolling my head back against him and he takes advantage of the angle, nipping my neck. It gives me a shiver and I slowly turn around in his arms. The lights flicker from the storm and a lump forms in my throat.

"Hey," Chris whispers, his voice deep and full. "It'll be over soon." 

He kisses me, his hands feeling their way up my back and to my neck, holding my face still. His kisses used to be so soft and docile. This one has a little more fire to it. He holds me to him and parts my lips with his tongue. My knees feel weak and I grab onto his shoulders for support.

I slowly part my lips from his and smile, eyes closed. He really is a terrific kisser. "Sorry, I need to sit."

"Oh, of course." He moves away and I seat myself on the side of my bed. I reach down and lift the skirt around my mattress to check on Stella. She doesn't budge and I don't blame her.

Chris sits next to me and takes my hand in his, thumbing my knuckles like he had done a few nights ago. The memory of our first kiss is still very fresh in my mind and I feel a little smile sneak across my face as I think about it.

"You have the sexiest little smile," Chris tells me. "Your eyes light up and it drives me crazy because I want to know what you're thinking. Please tell me what you're thinking."

I pull on his hand, bringing him closer. With my other hand, I ruffle his hair which is still damp from the rain. The wet strands stick out and I smirk. Chris looks down bashfully, peering up from his lashes.

"How about I show you instead?" I push my mouth to his, breathing him in as he wraps his arms around me, one hand sliding up the back of my shirt.

Another crack of thunder makes jump slightly. "Look at me," Chris presses his forehead to mine, penetrating my eyes with his own. "Let me make you forget it's even raining."

I answer him with a kiss, pulling him down on the bed with me. He moves to my side so he doesn't crush me, though I hardly think I would mind. He rakes his hands through the length of my hair and I tug at the hem of his shirt, encouraging him to remove it. He props himself up on his elbow and pulls it up and over his head. 

Running my hands over his chest, I'm surprised by how his trimmed chest hair is turning me on. Though, I also never thought I would consider beards to be attractive until I met Chris.

He kisses my neck, making his way across my jaw before meeting my lips again. The plumpness of his lower lip drives me crazy. I kiss him hard and tug on his lip between my teeth. Chris groans and chuckles. "You're so hot," he collides his mouth back to mine, kissing me rougher. 

"Chris," I turn my head and he presses kisses against my jaw and below my ear, making me shiver with chills. "Chris, my foot." 

"Am I hurting you," Chris's eyes grow wide and he pulls himself off of me completely.

"No, not at all! I'm just scared that I _will_ get hurt."

Chris scratches his chin and runs his hands through his hair. "We should stop. I really don't want to hurt you."

My heart sinks and I rush to fix it. "No! Don't stop. Just... block it off with pillows."

Chris chuckles and I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed once again. "God, do I sound desperate or what."

Pulling my hands down from my face, Chris licks his lips while eyeing mine. "Horny maybe, but not desperate. We'll fix it." Chris grabs the throw pillows around my bed and blocks off my ankle with a miniature fort.

"Perfect." I pull him back down to me, hugging him tightly, embracing his warmth. 

"Can I take your shirt off? Please?" Chris lowly growls into my ear. I nod and sit up, helping him unbutton my chambray shirt. He pushes my hands away, undoing each button slowly, as if he's James Bond stealthily diffusing a bomb.

Finally, the last button is undone and I shrug the shirt off my shoulders, baring the lacy red bra I may or may not have decided on wearing this morning knowing Chris was coming over. His eyes flutter down to my chest then back up. Back on the bed next to each other, our hands explore places they've never been as we kiss. If my damn ankle was fine, I would have throw my leg around him, securing him in place.

Chris's lips pepper kisses down my neck, stopping to shower attention over the plump swells of my breasts. My heart is pounding as his hands move down my stomach, stopping at the waist band of my leggings, teasing the flesh just above it.

Pulling me out of my trance, my phone rings on the coffee table in the other room. We both ignore it, or at least try to. Chris slips my bra strap off my shoulder, kissing the bare flesh, and repeats the process on the other side. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting it fall. Chris snatches it and tosses it across the room, taking a handful of one boob while generously kissing and sucking on the other. I'm relieved when my phone stops ringing and let myself be sucked back into a state of euphoria with Chris.

I lazily run my hand down his back and slip it into the top of his pants when my phone begins to ring again. I groan and sit up. "Sorry, if it's my mom, she'll keep calling I pick up."

Chris kisses my belly and rolls off the bed. "I'll go get your phone for you."

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I wrap my shirt over my chest. Chris brings my phone to me and in the distance, thunder continues to roll. I check the number and see that I'm right; it is my mother.

I roll my head around, attempting to release the sudden built up tension in my neck. "Hi, Mom," I smile as I pick up the call.

Poor Chris slides back into the bed and waits patiently, hands behind his head. My mom could not have picked a more worse time to call. I mouth to Chris "I'm sorry" and he shakes his head. Reaching out, he trails a finger down my spine and back up again. It makes me giggle and of course my mom notices.

"What's so funny?" She inquires.

"Just... really excited to move back..."

Chris sits up behind me and softly presses kisses against my back and shoulders. As good as it feels, I want those lips somewhere else right now. I bite down on my lip to hold back any moans that want to escape.

"Roger is going to call Chris and see if he can come visit soon. I'd love to have everyone together for Jessie's birthday." I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to forget the fact that my mother is Chris's stepmother. My stepbrother is in the act of seducing me and I'm allowing it? 

After discussing flight departure and arrivals, I say goodbye to my mother and turn my attention back to Chris. His half smile makes me lose my train of thought for a minute. I lean down and kiss him hard before sinking down next to him.

"Chris, don't hate me, please."

Chris softly moans into my neck, nudging my hair away from it with his nose. "Never," he whispers.

I sigh, frustrated. "We can't do this." I brace myself for his reaction, unsure if it'll be pleasant or upsetting.

He groans, dropping his forehead against my shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," I begin.

"No, don't. Don't apologize. It's my fault. I started this whole mess." He flips over to his back, one hand across his chest, the other on his stomach.

"You didn't start anything. I wanted it to happen. But can you imagine how our parents would feel if they found out?" I snake my arms back into my shirt and button it back up.

"It's not like it's wrong," Chris muses.

I frown and face him. "But it's not right." God, I wish he wouldn't look at me like that right now. His smile slowly spreads and his eyes are practically twinkling. "I think we need to make a pact."

"That's pretty serious. Are you sure?" I can't tell if he's teasing me or not. I playfully smack his chest anyway, and he grabs my hand, pulling me to him. "All I do is think about you, Maggie. I got one taste of your lips and now all I can think about is what the rest of you tastes like."

I eye his lips, begging me to kiss them and I blink hard, pulling myself away. "Okay, rule one, you cannot say things like that! I'm serious Chris. This can't happen."

"Why not?"

"Well, what will happen next? Would it just be a fling? We get along so great, I don't want to ruin our friendship. It's not like we can go the rest of our lives without bumping into each other again. We are family. You'll bring girls around, I'll have boyfriends, it'll get awkward if you and I have a history. It's just better if we don't." I swallow hard, half believing myself. "No matter how bad we want it..."

Chris watches my face but I don't back down. "Okay then. I should probably leave."

"You don't have to," I watch him stand and pick up his shirt. He slips it on and shrugs.

"Maggie, if I don't, I'll want to fuck you."

I laugh nervously, adjusting the collar around my neck. "Okay."

Chris lets out a deep breath and sits back on the bed. "You're right, you know. I'm sorry. If you still need help packing, I'll stay. Otherwise, I really should go."

I nod, agreeing. "Okay. Then yeah, you should go. I'm fine here."

"Okay then," he purses his lips together and takes my hand in his. "I guess I'll see you later. Have a safe flight." He presses a tiny kiss to my knuckles and proceeds to leave the room.

I listen as the front door opens and closes before I resume breathing, not even realizing until then that I'd been holding my breath. I push the pillows off my foot and make my way to the front door to lock it. 

Well, that's that. I'm sure we did the right thing. But as the thunder continues to roll, a part of me aches for him to return and take me in his arms.


	9. Chapter Nine

Anxiously, I sit on the examination table waiting for the doctor to come in with my x-rays so we can go over them. This is my second visit since I've been home in Boston. Two more weeks left of this damn boot and I move onto physical therapy as long as things are moving along the way they should be.

"Alrighty, Margaret, here we go!" Dr. Medina slips the image into the light box and switches it on. "Looky here! Moving right along splendidly! Could not be happier."

What a relief. Four weeks down, two to go. I leave the doctor's office with a pep in my step (mainly in my good leg) and a smile no one can erase. Two more gosh darn weeks. 

On the ride back home, Mom calls to remind me to pick up the balloons for Jess's party tonight. I make a quick stop at the party store and then shove the sparkly star shaped foil balloons into the back of Roger's Escape. Mom calls again and asks me to get the cake as well.

"What the flip, Mom. Yes. I'll get the cake. I'm sorry for the attitude. I promise I won't bring it home with me." I roll my eyes and turn into the parking lot of the bakery. The second this boot is off, I'm getting a job and finding my own place.

It's been strange getting used to not dancing every day. I have my moments when I sink into deep depression and sleep all day, hidden away in my old childhood bedroom I used to share with Jess. Mom took me to a doctor and now I take anti-depressants. Seems like the easy way out, I know, but I'm not ready to speak with a therapist. Not yet. 

Pulling into the driveway of my old house where Mom still lives, I see Roger peek out the curtain of the living room. I put the car in park and Roger is on his way out the door to help me get everything in.

"Hello, sweetheart, how was your appointment?" Roger opens the hatch of the Escape and gently pulls out all of the balloons.

"It was good. Two more weeks to go," I say, crossing my fingers for luck.

I've grown rather fond of Roger these past four weeks of living in the same house. He's a real sweet man and such a doting father. David has joined up with Doctors Without Borders and Roger couldn't be more proud. He's constantly sending him care-packages and praying for him. It took some time to get used to seeing Roger in all the same places my dad would be; lounging on the couch, cooking dinner in the kitchen, mowing the lawn. He worships the ground my mom walks on and it's rather endearing. He never belittles her or snaps at her. One night, after dinner, I began taking care of the dishes in the kitchen and I could hear Mom and Roger whispering to each other, thinking I couldn't hear. The things they said, though cringe-worthy, made me smile. I'm happy for Mom. And the way Roger looks at her sometimes, well, it reminds me of Chris. Alarmingly so.

I would be lying if I said I didn't think about Chris much. Truth is, he's on my mind nearly all the time. I want to text him or call him but I never know what to say. He hasn't reached out to me either. So by wanting to stop things in their tracks to save us from any awkwardness has made things awkward anyway. He had planned on flying out for Jess's birthday celebration tonight but his schedule got switched around and he can no longer make it. He did promise he would FaceTime with us later, though. It's silly, but I'm a little nervous about that. 

Jess's boyfriend Calvin and his parents are coming over tonight as well as her best friend, Cecelia. We are having a small family dinner with them to celebrate Jess's thirtieth birthday. Afterwards, the "kids" are heading out to bar hop with the rest of Jess's friends.

 

*****

Mom made Jess her favorite dinner; homemade chicken enchiladas. Dinner was spent cracking jokes and making lighthearted conversation. As I get to know Calvin better, I realize how perfect he is for Jess and I'm actually proud of her. He's tall, about six feet, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. His sense of humor surprises me but I'm delighted when my mom is actually shaking with laughter instead of shaking her head in disgust at some of his raunchier jokes. Anyone who can make Mom laugh like a teenager is a keeper.

Roger keeps his iPad next to him at the table, waiting for Chris to FaceTime us so we can sing Happy Birthday to Jess. I find myself eyeing it more often than he does, anticipating the notification that a call is coming through. Dinner wraps up by six, when Chris had said he'd call. Mom asks Roger to help her clear the table before bringing the cake out. Roger stacks the plates with the help of Cecelia while Mom sets out a clean stack of dessert plates and forks. 

As Cecelia returns to her seat, Roger enters the dining room with the cake, followed closely by Mom with candles and a box of matches. Roger's iPad chimes, alerting us of Chris's incoming call.

"Would you, Maggie?" Roger raises his brows as he reaches over the table to place the cake down in front of Jess.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I pick up the iPad and accept the call.

Chris's face fills the screen and I smile. "Hey Maggie," he grins. He seems surprised to see me.

"Hey, you're just in time. We're getting ready for the cake." I blush and turn the iPad away from me, showing him everyone else surrounding the table. Everyone says hello while Mom sets up the candles on the cake. Roger takes the iPad from me and I try to focus my attention on the cake and avoid looking at Chris. I haven't spoken to him since my last night in California.

"Alright, here we go!" Roger dims the lights and the candles cast a romantic glow around Jess's face as she smiles.

Everyone begins to sing Happy Birthday, including Chris. Jess beams and laughs, dropping her head to Calvin's shoulder in fake embarrassment. I know she loves the attention, but it's cute. She quickly blows out the candles, all thirty of them, and everyone cheers and claps. Calvin pushes away from the table and kneels down on bended knee next to Jess, taking her hand in his.

"Oh my god," Jess mutters, her smile completely dropping into a look of disbelief. 

I cup my face, eyes wide. Mom squeals, grasping Roger by the shoulders. Calvin's parents share a smile and wait patiently for Calvin to finally speak.

Calvin clears his throat and laughs nervously. "Jessica Lee Buchanan, I have never before cared for anyone as much as I care for you. I wake up every morning thinking of nothing else but your smile and your laugh. You've completely changed my life for the better and I simply cannot imagine it without you. I need you by my side for the rest of my life. Please, Jess, will you marry me?"

He fishes a ring out of his pocket and holds it up. Jess's smile is the biggest I've ever seen. Tears fill her eyes as she nods, laughing. "Of course I will. Yes," she sighs as Calvin stands, taking her into his arms, sealing the deal with a big kiss.

Mom cheerfully laughs with delight and hugs me. Calvin's parents hug him and Jess while I overhear Roger explain to Chris that Calvin had asked him and Mom for their blessing. My heart swells with happiness for Jess. Roger hands me the iPad as he shakes hands with Calvin's parents.

"Did you know?" Chris asks me.

I shake my head, laughing. "No! No idea!"

"That was really cool. Calvin seems awesome."

I nod, agreeing. I realize I have the iPad facing me as Chris grins. I quickly turn it away towards everyone else.

 

*****

 

Later on, Jess, Calvin, Cecelia and I, along with several other of their friends, bar hop downtown. Being the weekend, the bars are packed and everyone's spirits are high. Considering it's ill advised to consume alcoholic beverages with my prescriptions, Jess has deemed me the designated driver of the night, with the promise she will return the favor next month for my birthday. I have no desire to bar hop for my birthday, but I just smile and agree.

At the third bar of the evening, I'm nursing a glass of water that I originally ordered for Jess so she's not dreadfully hung over tomorrow. I seem to have lost her on the dance floor with Calvin. I take a big gulp when a dark haired older gentleman seats himself next to me, uninvited.

"You look lonely, sweetheart," he grins. Normally, I would be cringing. But this guy looks harmless. His face is very sweet and friendly. He looks to be between thirty and thirty five and has an adorable dimpled chin.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm just the designated driver for tonight because of this thing here," I gently thump the boot on my foot with my fist and shrug.

He glances down and frowns. "Damn. I'm sorry. I guess if I were to ask you to dance, that'd be a no?"

"Not that I wouldn't want to," I flirt back. 

"Are you from around here?"

"I am. And you?"

"Born and raised."

We chat for a few minutes longer and he tells me he's with friends for a bachelor party. They're bar hopping as well. I see no ring on his finger, nor any sign that there's one missing. I mention it's my sister's birthday and that she was also just proposed to tonight.

Jess staggers up to our table, arm in arm with Cecelia. "Let's go on down to Duke's now! They have the best Mai Tais! Oh, sorry, who's your friend, Mags?" Jess wiggles her brows towards my new chat mate.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, we haven't even introduced ourselves yet," I laugh. "I'm Maggie, this is my sister Jess and her friend Cecelia."

"Ah, congrats on your engagement, Jess, and happy birthday," he stands and takes her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. He shakes Cecelia's hand and proceeds to seat himself again. "My name is James, but everyone calls me Jamie. And it's a pleasure to meet you ladies. Especially you, Maggie," he turns, leaning toward me. I swallow hard and blush.

"I guess we are going, then?" I look up at Jess who seems to be looking for her fiancé. I stand and say my goodbyes to Jamie and follow Cecelia out of the bar. Jess takes off to round up Calvin and their other friends.

Out of the bar, I take a gulp of fresh air. Cecelia flirts with a biker smoking a few feet away and I pull my phone out to check the time. I see a text from Chris, the first one I've gotten since California.

**From: Chris  
You looked gorgeous tonight.**

I smile and glance around, making sure no one else can see my phone. Silly, I know. I take a few steps further, away from Cecelia and stop in front of a brick building painted pink. I smile when I look up and see it's a dance studio. The sign hanging above the door reads "Miss Muffet's Dance Emporium."

I quickly send Chris a text back telling him I wish he could have made it before slipping my phone back into my pocket. I step toward the building and try to peer in through the dark windows. I make out some tumble mats and a short balance beam. My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket and as I dig to fish it out, I notice the "help wanted" sign. I read it over, taking in as much detail, as I absentmindedly answer my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey." His voice snaps me back to reality.

"Hi, Chris!"

Chris snickers. "I wish I could be there. How's it going? Have you gone to Duke's yet?"

"Not yet; we are heading there next, if Jess ever finds her fiancé."

"Awesome. If you get Mallory as a bartender, tell her Chris says hi."

"Oooh, Mallory, who's that?"

Chris laughs and I can tell he regrets mentioning her at all. "She's just an old friend, Maggie. But I'm sure she'll take care of you if you mention me."

"Maggie?" I spin around and see Jamie exiting the bar. 

"Hey," I wave.

"Maggie? Do you need to go?" Chris asks.

"No, hold on." I press my phone against my chest. "What's up?" I smile broadly to Jamie.

"I'm glad I caught you. I just wanted to give you my card. For a rain check for that dance, if you're interested."

I hold out my hand and take his business card. "James W. Hunter, Accountant and Financial Planner," I read aloud. "What's the W for?"

"William."

"That was my dad's name," I grin, pocketing the card.

Jamie waves goodbye and runs off with his hoard of drunk friends. I put my phone back up to my ear.

"Sorry, Chris."

"No problem. Making friends?"

I hitch my hand on my hip. "Maybe. Yes. Have you ever heard of Miss Muffet's Dance Emporium?" I glance back up at the sign above my head.

"Nope. Must be new."

"Hmm."

Two more weeks to go and I'll be boot free. What better time to apply for a job? I say my goodbyes with Chris and punch the number to Miss Muffet's into my phone to save.


	10. Chapter Ten

"And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," I count the steps while clapping my hands to the beat. Seven little ballerinas, ages eight to ten, dance before me, doing their best to repeat the new steps I've shown them at the beginning of class. 

I've been with Miss Muffet's for about two weeks now and I absolutely love it. I handed in my résumé in person while wearing my boot and luckily, Miss Muffet, whose full name is Tricia Lynn Muffet, was there. We talked for an hour about dance and my injury and I guess she really liked me because she hired me on the spot. A week after no longer needing the boot, my doctor cleared me for work and I began my new job. 

Four days a week I work with ballet and jazz classes. Saturday morning is my favorite time of the week, so far. Getting kids excited about dancing when they've just barely woken up pleases me for some reason. They come in yawning and groggy until we do our warm ups and free style. I let them dance around for five minutes anyway they want to, simply to get them moving and happy. I work with this same group of girls twice a week and they've given me no grief so far. Being day four with them, I'm proud of myself for finally remembering each of their first names. We'll get to last names eventually.

"Nicely done, everyone! Emily, remember to keep your head up. And Erin, big smile!" I walk around them as they continue to practice the new steps to add on to the previously learned steps. It's only been two weeks, yet I already see a dramatic change in each of the girls. Their confidence in themselves is surely growing and I can't help but feel proud.

Checking the clock above the door to my little studio space, I notice our hour is up. It always goes by so fast. "That's all for today, ladies. Each of you are doing excellent! Try to practice everyday if you can and I'll see you again on Tuesday! Have a safe Labor Day weekend!" The littlest one, Emily, runs up and gives me a big hug around my waist before rushing out of the room with the others to be collected by their parents. 

I stick my head out the door just to double check that each parent is accounted for. I watch as little Emily bounds up to her beautiful mother while giggling. Her mom gives me a slight wave with a smile which I return. Smiling, I turn back into my room to slip out of my dance shoes and turn the sound system off.

There comes a little tap on the door and I turn to see Emily's mom. "Hi, Miss Buchanan? I'm Emily's mom, Olivia."

"Yes, hi!" I make my way to her, holding my hand out to take hers in a friendly handshake. "Please, call me Maggie. What can I do for you?" I smile down at Emily.

"I talked to Tricia already, but I wanted to let you know as well; Emily will be with her dad for the rest of the month, so she will be riding with him. I didn't want anyone to worry if you saw her with a man instead of me," she laughs.

"Oh sure, no problem. Thank you for letting me know." I nod, smiling, and wave goodbye to them.

I shut the light off for the studio room and join Tricia behind the front desk where she's busy updating the business website on the computer. 

"How was class, dear?" She looks up briefly as I step into my boots and grab my car keys and cell phone out of one of the drawers.

"Perfect," I beam. I check my phone and see a missed call from Jess.

Tricia pushes away from the computer, her chair rolling and spinning until she faces me. "Oh good! I'm very happy to hear that! Are you liking working here? Because I really love having you here."

"Definitely. I can't thank you enough for this job, Tricia, really."

"Well you're welcome, sweetie." I wave goodbye and begin to leave. "Oh, and happy birthday!"

I stop and look back at her. "How'd you know?"

Tricia shrugs with a grin. "I have my ways. Have a lovely weekend, Maggie."

I shake my head and wave goodbye again before leaving the building. I call Jess back and put the phone up to my ear as I walk to Roger's car. He and Mom had errands to run this morning, so they dropped me off instead of having me take the car. Jess answers and begins asking me questions about my birthday celebrations this weekend. We have a long weekend ahead of us thanks to Labor Day and Jess definitely plans on taking advantage of it. I'm so engrossed with our conversation that without even registering that Mom isn't in the car, I open the passenger door and hop right in.

"Hey Rog-- Chris?!" I laugh with surprise at Chris sitting in the driver's seat, sporting a big goofy grin. He wears a baseball cap and one of his usual red flannel shirts.

"Happy birthday, Maggie," He starts the car and I'm left gawking with Jess chatting away in my ear. I tell her I'll call her back and hang up.

"I thought you didn't arrive 'til tomorrow?"

"'Twas a lie. Surprise! Dad and your mom picked me up at the airport after dropping you off at work."

I playfully swat his shoulder and buckle up, my smile beginning to hurt my cheeks. "Did Max come with?"

"No," Chris laughs. "I left him with a neighbor."

"Aw. Well I miss him. Give him a hug for me when you're back home."

"I promise." Chris winks and we take off.

Chris takes me back home where I quickly change into a pair of skinny jeans and a hunter green tank top paired with a chocolate brown cardigan. I comb out my hair and pile it up into a messy bun before quickly touching up my blush and mascara. After stepping into my boots and zipping them up, I hop back into the car and Chris and I drive a town away to have lunch with the rest of the family, where our parents are already waiting with Jess and Calvin.

We keep our conversation light, Chris and I. I keep wondering to myself if he still thinks of me as more than just a step sister. As more than a friend. I can't say he's flirtatious but then again, neither am I. Maybe we are finally past that for good. We chat about work and our pets and how my foot is doing.

But then, at lunch, we become more comfortable and definitely begin to flirt. Chris makes a smart ass comment about my rather large appetite so I stick my fingers in my water and splash him in the face. He reaches over the table and stabs my piece of birthday cheesecake with his fork, helping himself to a rather large bite. I jokingly stab his hand with my own fork to stop him. Our parents, still newly in love, are lost in their own little world together while Chris, Jess, Calvin and I eat our desserts. Jess keeps shooting me a glare and it makes my heart sink. It's not easy being reminded that this handsome man who wants me as much as I want him, or did, at least, is family. I shoot a glare back at Jess and take a bite of her brownie sundae before sticking my tongue out.

We discuss bar hopping again since Chris missed out last time. I have to put my hand up though. "Last time, you had the hangover from hell, Jess."

"Hey, this isn't about me, this is about you, Maggie," she replies with a giggle.

Calvin pipes up after a bite of his carrot cake. "The bars are gonna be packed, being Labor Day weekend."

"Well shit. That's true," Jess frowned. "Let's try anyway and if it's too much, we'll just crash at my place and play games. Does that sound okay to you?" Jess eyes me and I shrug.

"Sure! Whatever we do, it'll be fun." 

 

*****

Later that evening, Jess's house is full of people. The bars were too packed so she ended up calling practically everyone she knew. They're all more her friends than mine, but I don't mind. I don't have many friends anyway. Or any. All my friends are back in California. At least Chris is here. And kicking my ass at beer pong.

"Ha! Drink up, Maggie!" Chris sneers after his ping pong ball lands into a cup of beer with ease. The small crowd around us cheers on as I sigh and down the amber liquid. I'll never get used to the taste of beer.

Now it's my turn. I ready myself and blow on my ping pong ball for good luck. Chris chuckles and I bounce it on the table once. It splashes into one of the last four of his cups. I jump up and down, proud of myself. The audience we've attracted cheer on Chris as he gulps down the beer. Back and forth we go, sometimes missing, sometimes hitting nothing but beer. Sploosh; nothing but beer.

Finally, we're down to one cup each and it's my turn. "You're going down, Evans." I drag my finger across my throat, indicating his impending doom. He smirks and shakes his head. My ping pong ball bounces once and completely misses his cup, the ball bouncing off the table and to the floor. I groan and drop my face into my hands.

"Aw. Poor Maggie." Chris lets his ball go and it hits the rim of my cup, sending the ball flying away from us. "Nooo!"

I wring my hands together evilly and pick up a ball. I give the ball a little kiss and send it on it's way. It lands precisely into Chris's last cup of beer and I shriek with laughter. Some groan and some congratulate me. Chris downs the beer slowly and glares at me before walking around the table to me. The crowd around us disperses.

"I went easy on you, birthday girl." Chris lifts his arms and tosses them around my neck, resting his chin on my head. I snake my arms around his waist and we kind of hug, kind of sway, to the music Jess has blaring. Chris gives me a tight squeeze before pulling away. "Want a drink?"

I purse my lips together, thinking. "I don't know. I'm kind of tipsy already."

"Ooh, perfect. Come." He takes my hand and pulls me with him to the kitchen.

Chris supplies me with a wine cooler and himself with another beer. We clink our glasses together before taking swigs. Chris leans against the counter and props his beer next to him. I see him swallow hard and watch as his eyes start at my feet and slowly work their way up to my own eyes. I flush with embarrassment, though flattered, and take another swig of my drink. 

I shift my weight and brush my loose hair behind my ear. Somehow, I let Jess talk me into wearing one of her dresses tonight. It's black and lacy with capped sleeves. I would much rather be in my jeans but Jess insisted that as the birthday princess, I must look the part. Having Chris eye me up and down in it makes me silently thank Jess for being so bossy.

"You're very beautiful, Maggie," Chris breathes. I almost didn't hear him. Jess and Calvin, along with others are shouting about the rules to some card game they've been playing for the last hour.

"Oh, thanks. The dress belongs to Jess. She made me wear it tonight." I look down at my feet. Jess wears a different shoe size so I am barefoot instead of clomping around in oversized heels.

"Do you have a boyfriend yet?"

I shoot my eyes back up to Chris, stunned. The alcohol seems to be making him brave. "A boyfriend? No." I cock my head, curious about his question.

"Sorry for prying. I was just wondering why he wasn't here, if you did have one. Am I making sense? I don't feel like I'm making sense."

I snicker. "I think the booze is going to your head."

"I'm telling you, you're wrong!" Jess stumbles into the kitchen with two empty beer bottles. "Buttholes. The lot of them. Hey kids. How's it hanging. Happy birthday, Sis."

Chris and I exchange smiles. "You okay, Jess?" I ask. Jess pulls open the refrigerator door and bends down to find a new beer.

"Sure. Sure! But, sorry, I think I've had too much to drink to drive you guys back home tonight. You don't mind crashing here, do you?"

So much for Jess being the designated driver this time.

"No. Not a problem. I'm sure we'll manage," Chris insisted.

Jess stands with two bottles of ice cold beer and lets the refrigerator door close on its own as she walks away. "Great!"

"Does she have a guest bedroom?" Chris asks.

"One."

"Ah. Guess you'll be taking the couch?"

I roll my eyes and step to his side, leaning against the counter with him. I budge him with my elbow, laughing. "Birthday girls do not sleep on couches."

Chris and I join in the ongoing card game which, of course, involves drinking. It isn't until after 2 am that the only people left are my sister, her fiancé, Chris, and myself. People had begun leaving around midnight, mostly those with small children at home. 

Calvin stretches and yawns. "I think we should head to bed, babe."

The yawn spreads around to each of us and Jess agrees. "I'm gonna feel like shiiiit in the morning," she laughs humorlessly. "Cal, will you look under the bathroom sink and see if there are new toothbrushes for them? I usually have extras on hand."

"Yes ma'am." Calvin rises from his seat and plants a kiss on Jess's forehead before heading down the hallway to the master bedroom.

Jess sleepily grins at Chris and I. "You two."

Chris and I glance and each other, confused.

"What?" I laugh nervously.

"You're cute, that's all. But be careful. People are talking."

My heart drops. "What? Jess," I start to ask her what she's talking about.

Jess puts her hand up, interrupting me. "Just a few people have asked if you guys were dating, not realizing Chris is our step brother. That's all. I'm aware you guys have gotten close, just... be careful. That's all. And now I'll shut up." Jess pushes away from the table and stands. "Come get a shirt to sleep in so I don't have to come back out here," she says to me.

I sigh deeply and follow her to her bedroom. Calvin is in the master bathroom brushing his teeth. He sticks his head out when he hears us enter and hands Jess two unopened toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste. Jess rummages through her drawers and pulls out a tank and a pair of sleep shorts and tosses them to me, along with the toiletries. 

"Now go. I'm gonna pass out," Jess waves me away.

"Thanks. Goodnight, guys." I roll my eyes at Jess's lack of manners and leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me. 

I slip into the guest bedroom and shimmy out of the dress. I pull on the tank and step into the shorts. Next, I grab the toiletries and take a toothbrush to Chris.

"Hey you," I call to him before I reach him. He glances up from his phone just as I toss a toothbrush his way. He snatches it out of the air with a grin and follows me to the bathroom in the hall, watching me as I walk.

The bathroom has a long counter with two sinks and one large mirror across the entire wall. Chris and I peel back the packaging for our toothbrushes and proceed to take care of our teeth, brushing away the taste of alcohol. We watch each other as we scrub, laughing at the awkwardness. We spit, rinse, spit again, and wipe our mouths with the back of our hands. Chris turns to face me and next thing I know, he has me seated on the counter as he stands between my thighs. His hands wrap around my neck and his fingers graze my nape.

I roll my head back, my eyes closed. I feel Chris's warm breath below my neck, along my collarbone. 

"Chris," I whisper, trying hard not to pant.

"Hmm," he moans, his nose trailing along my clavicle, breathing in my scent.

"I'm sorry for stopping us last time." I open my eyes and look at him.

"Really?"

I slowly nod, my eyes on his lips. His bottom lip practically begs to be nibbled on. I swallow hard and look him in the eyes.

"Come on." Chris helps me off the counter and pulls me with him to the guest bedroom. Before I step in with him, I press my ear to the door of my sister's room. Silence.

I step in after Chris and shut the door, locking it. Instantly, Chris crashes his lips to mine. I bump back hard against the door in surprise but kiss him harder. My fingers weave their way through his gorgeous hair as his fingers dig into my hips. Chris peppers kisses down my jaw and neck before he looks back up.

"Are you sure?" His concern is evident.

I lick my lips and nod. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left."

Chris lets out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes, but grinning. He drops his forehead gently against mine. My lips reach for his and brush against them. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Maggie. To hear those words from your very perfect little mouth." He slips his tongue into my mouth and I welcome it, moaning against him. 

He turns, taking me with him and we walk awkwardly until I feel the bed behind my knees. He pushes me back gently with his mouth still on mine. Breaking away, he begins to unbutton his shirt and pushes it off his shoulders before removing his white undershirt. His broad shoulders and narrow waist look delicious and I can't wait to kiss every inch. I can't wait to spread my fingers through his sparse chest hair. And I can't wait to rest my head on his heart; to listen to the sound it makes as he falls asleep in my arms. I shake my head of those thoughts and push myself back further on the bed.

Next, he unbuckles his belt and unsnaps his jeans, stepping out of them, and removes his socks. Standing before me in a pair of red boxers, he gives me a half smile before climbing up over me, his mouth finding mine again. I run my hands over his hard back, appreciating his muscles. His weight on me only heightens my arousal for him. Chris hitches my leg up over his hip and grinds himself against me, pressing his lips harder to mine. I gasp at his firm erection against me, suddenly wanting - no - needing it more than anything. I arch my back, pressing my hips upward to meet his better. Chris moans into my mouth. The vibration sends chills all over me.

I push Chris off of me, wanting control. He staggers back, surprised but pleased as I push him down and mount him, hungrily kissing his mouth. Chris trails his fingers up my sides and it makes me giggle against his lips. I sit up and grab his hands. We link fingers and I raise his hands up above his head, holding them in place as I continue to kiss him. I let go and my lips begin to wander down his neck. I hear Chris moan and I smile, pleased to cause this kind of reaction from him. I slink my way down further, caressing his chest with my hands as I kiss his soft skin. I lick over his tattoos and gently blow cool air over them, delighting in the way his skin reacts, gooseflesh appearing.

"Fuck, Maggie. You're so sexy." His head lolls back as I continue my way down to the elastic band of his boxers.

I tease the sensitive flesh above the waistband with my tongue before Chris grabs me by the wrists and pulls me back up. He flips me over and pins my hands above me, holding them in place with only one of his. His other hand gently trails down my side, making me giggle again when he skims over my ribs. When his fingers reach the bottom of the tank top, his hand disappears underneath. I slightly gasp at the warmth of his hand against my belly. His fingers climb up to my chest and he cups one of my breasts in his hand. He watches my facial reaction as he gently begins to knead, licking his lips with his eyes on mine.

I groan and chew my lower lip, wishing he'd release his grip on my hands. I want to pull his face to mine and kiss him. As if reading my mind, Chris lowers himself and our lips connect. Our tongues dance as his hand skims down my stomach and to my shorts. My heart is beating so hard and I'm pretty sure my brain has turned to mush. 

I am putty in his hands.


	11. Chapter Eleven

My eyes fly open and I sit up so fast that my head begins to spin. Or maybe that's the alcohol. It takes a second for me to register where I am. The clock next to me reads 6:07 am and I groan. I need water and an aspirin, stat. Groggily, I toss the bedsheets aside and stumble out of bed. The events of last night roll through my memory and I slap my hand over my mouth. I reach for the doorknob but drop my head to the door in frustration before opening it. What the hell did we do last night...

The sun has barely risen but gently washes a calm light throughout the house. I step out of the darkened hallway and toward the sunnier kitchen, stretching in the beams of morning light shooting in from between the curtains above the sink.

I quietly open various cabinets until I find a cup and fill it with tap water. Being no stranger to hangovers herself, Jess always keeps aspirin on the window sill. I fumble with the child safety cap and when it does snap off, the bottle flies out of my hands, the tiny pills scattering across the floor. I groan and drop to my hands and knees to collect them. I hear a snicker from the living room and sit back on my heels, hugging my chest in surprise.

Chris is spread out across the couch, clutching a pillow around his torso. He sheepishly grins and I find myself blushing.

"Good morning," he whispers.

"Hi. Do you need one?" I hold up a pill but he shakes his head.

I scoop up the extras and drop them back into the bottle, one at a time, and proceed to take two with a large gulp of cold water. Water dribbles out of my mouth and down my chin. I spin away from Chris and laugh, wiping my chin off with my hand.

As I place the cup in the sink, I hear him sit up and stand, making his way to me. I watch as little particles of dust dance in the beam of light through the curtain and anticipate his touch. I feel his fingers sweep my hair aside and over my right shoulder. To my left shoulder, he places a gentle kiss. He wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles his face into my neck.

"Did you sleep well?" He mumbles against me.

I cross my arms over his, warm in his embrace.

"Not really. Chris?" I loosen his grip on me and turn in his arms. "Did... did we...?"

Chris cocks his eyebrow, waiting for the rest of my question.

"You know. Did we?"

He smirks and shakes his head. "No. You passed out cold. So I covered you up and slept on the couch."

"Really?"

"Fucking hell," Jess's voice makes us jump and Chris drops his arms. In the midst of rubbing her eyes, she hasn't seen us yet. We step away from each other and pretend we weren't just talking. "Why did I drink so much?"

Jess turns on the coffee machine and tosses in grounds. She's making way too much noise for someone with a hangover. 

"Maggie, hand me the aspirin, please."

I chuck the bottle to her and she takes three pills.

"You guys are so loud. Why are you up so early?" She turns to glare at us.

The coffee begins to drip into a steady stream into the coffee pot, the strong aroma comforting.

Chris points to me and shrugs. "She's the one dropping pills all over the place at the crack of dawn. Don't look at me."

I purse my lips and roll my eyes. Chris smirks, walking back to the couch. He tosses himself back against it and snuggles with the pillow once more, closing his eyes.

I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him. He peeks one eye open and smirks, seeing me.

Jess tears open two packets of sugar and sprinkles them into her full mug. She looks back at Chris and then to me, talking lowly. "So... What time did you guys go to bed?"

I scratch my chin and turn around, away from Chris. "Pretty much right after you guys did. I mean, I did; I don't know about Chris," I lie.

Jess proceeds to fill another mug with coffee, I presume, for Calvin. “Nice. I’ll wake Cal to drive you guys home. Then maybe you’ll let me get some sleep!” Jess leaves the kitchen, heading to her bedroom with both mugs of coffee in hand.

I sigh deeply and glance Chris’s way. He slowly smirks, with his eyes still closed. “I know you’re not sleeping, ass,” I joke.

His eyes peek open and he beckons me over with a single finger. I shake my head knowing Jess or Cal will be back shortly. Chris pouts and hugs the pillow tighter. “Maybe later,” I mouth silently.

 

*****

 

Hours later after Cal has dropped us back home, I wake up once again, but this time in my own bedroom and with Chris’s arms around me. His face is nestled snuggly into the crook of my neck and I can feel his warm breath. His lips are lightly pressed against my skin and every single one of my nerves are jolted awake upon this realization. 

When we arrived, our parents were leaving for breakfast with friends, like they always do Sunday mornings. They invited us to join them but, groggy with headaches, we turned them down. I had trotted up the stairs, Chris following close behind. I stepped into my room and watched as he went into David’s, where he will stay during visits. We both leaned against the door frames and smiled at each other.

“I don’t suppose you’d like some company? Maybe a cuddle buddy?” He raised one eyebrow to me.

I pursed my lips and pretended to think. “That’s not a bad idea. Are you volunteering?”

“Hell yes, I am.” His eyes lit up and he crossed the hall, stepping into my room.

And he makes one fantastic cuddle buddy.

I peer at the radio clock next to my side of the bed and wonder when our parents will be back. Chris moans and shifts next to me. 

“Chris,” I whisper.

“Mmm.”

“You should probably get back to your room before our parents come back.”

“We’re just spooning,” he mumbles. He tightens his arms around me and I giggle.

“Chris,” I try to sound stern. I push his arms away and turn to face him. 

His eyes are heavily lidded and he gives me a little smile. “Why are you so pretty in the morning?”

“Stop it. You need to leave.”

“Five more minutes.”

I playfully smack his chest and he grabs my hand, holding it over his heart. “I’m serious, Chris!” I’m trying hard not to laugh but I can’t help it. He’s making me giddy and childish. Easily.

“Dad is taking your mom shopping. We’re supposed to meet them tonight at Jess’s for cake.”

“What? How do you know that?”

Chris rolls over and picks up his phone off the table on his side and hands it to me. “Got a text. Now shh. Go back to sleep.” He presses his finger against his lips, shushing me.

I scroll through the text, and he’s right. I hold his phone back out for him to take it, but he doesn’t. I look at his face and he’s already sleeping again. I’m too awake now. Having Chris so close and smelling as good as he does is both disconcerting and intoxicating. I need to shower. 

I weasel out of his arms and grab clothes to change in to afterwards. Stella glances up from the foot of my bed and yawns before curling back up to sleep. Taking my phone with, I hook it up to the dock next to the sink and start a calming playlist. As I brush my teeth, I slowly prop myself up on my toes, stretching my calves. After spitting, I undress and comb my hair. 

I make the water of the shower lukewarm instead of the usual piping hot that I love. But as I’m scrubbing shampoo into my scalp and rinsing it out, the rivers down the curves of my body make me think of Chris, no matter how chilling the temperature of the water is. I turn the nozzle to the hot water up a little until it’s warmer and stand under the heavy spray, holding my arms around myself. I tilt my chin up, letting the water run down my neck and over my shoulders. My hands, with a mind of their own, begin to caress my arms and then move down to my hips. I sway a bit under the spray of the shower and bring my hands back up to my chest, gently caressing and squeezing my breasts. My nipples are erect and when my fingers slide over them, my inner core clenches. I lean back into the spray and let one hand wander down my stomach and to my sex. 

Hands grasps my hips and my eyes open in surprise. “Chris,” I blink the water from my eyes as he maneuvers the both of us completely under the spray. A list of all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen scrolls through my mind.

“I could hear you, moaning. Maggie, I can’t stay away from you. Tell me to, and I will. Otherwise, I’m taking you. Right here, right now.” 

Our lips part and steam from the hot water encases the both of us. Chris licks water off his lips, his eyes on mine.

“Tell me you want me too, Maggie.”

“You know I do, Chris,” I reply, instantly. I cup my hand around his neck and pull his lips to mine. This is it. This is the point of no return.

His hard on presses against my lower belly, near my sex. Chris’s hands pull my hair across my right shoulder as he trails his lips down my jawline and neck. I rake my nails gently down his back and his teeth graze my skin. Despite the sauna we currently occupy, I shiver in his arms. He brings his lips back to mine and his hands run down my back and over my ass. One hand slides down my thigh and hitches my leg up against his hip. He wraps my leg around him and then his fingers tease my slit. I feel him press in, slowly. In, and then out to rub against my clit. I draw in a big gulp of air and hug myself against him for support. Chris repeats his actions, driving me to the brink of insanity, teasing my clit. I need more. 

“Breathe, Maggie. Mustn’t forget to breathe,” he growls lowly against my ear. 

“I - I need you,” I whimper against him. 

I feel a moan rise from his chest and he chuckles darkly. “I’m the one who needs you.” He collides his lips to mine and our tongues dance. I suck on his lip as he rubs his fingers more vigorously against me.

“Chris, please,” I moan against his mouth. I feel him smile against my lips and he begins to thrust his fingers into me.

I grasp his shoulders for support, hugging him to me. He wraps one around around my waist and with his mouth he licks and sucks on my neck. I drop one hand to his cock and wrap my fingers around it. Chris jolts against me at my touch. I love how silky and soft he feels in my hand. He barely lets me touch him before we are carefully changing positions. Chris backs me up against the tile wall and kneels before me. He grabs my ankle and props my foot up on the side of the tub and smiles at me as water runs down his face. He blinks the droplets away, chuckling, and wraps his arms underneath my thighs, bringing my hips towards his mouth. I brace myself against him, one hand on his shoulder, the other combing through his soaked hair.

Chris nuzzles his nose against me, breathing me in. My lips part at the contact and I patiently wait for what comes next. With a flat and warm tongue, Chris pushes through my folds, invading me. He hums and moans, lavishing me with great care. His tongue is very precise and expertly used. I reach out for something to grab onto, coming up empty handed. My knees are shaking and if he continues at this pace, I'll surely be flat on my back in no time.

"Oh, Chris," I groan as I bite my lower lip to keep from crying out. "You... you are..." I can't even speak. Chris adds a finger, stroking me from the inside while teasing my clit with his tongue and lips. Sucking and flicking and pumping; I can barely stand anymore. "Chris," I tap on his shoulder. "Chris, if you don't ... If you don't stop," I groan and lean back against the tile.

He hums against me, the vibrations shooting through my core. I'm so close. I rake my fingers through his hair and grip it, keeping him in place. I'm panting and just nearly over the edge. Chris hooks his two fingers inside and caresses a spot that sends my brain in overdrive. I cry out and arch my hips harder against him. His fingers dig into my sides, holding me still as he coaxes me through my orgasm.

As I float back down to earth, Chris stands, still gripping my body to his. I kiss him, hard, tasting myself on him. It's strangely erotic and I moan against his mouth. The salty taste of myself is rather intoxicating. Even more so knowing he's the reason for it.

Chris turns and shuts the water off before taking my hand in his. Dripping wet, in more ways than one, I trail along out of the bathroom and into my bedroom where he corners and pushes me back against the bed. Stella darts out of the room, thankfully. Crawling above me, water drips off Chris's body, splashing onto mine. He parts his lips and I see his tongue run along his teeth. I grab onto his biceps and pull him down on top of me. Water and skin don't exactly make it easy to caress each other. It would have been ideal to dry off first but neither of us want to wait an extra minute.

"You're going to break my heart, but I really don't care right now. I just want you," Chris kisses my ear, sucking on the lobe. I shiver in his arms again.

"Fuck me. Please," I whimper, leaning into his kisses.

Chris pushes himself back and lines his cock up, slipping himself between my slick folds. Pushing in, he thumbs my clit and my back arches on its own. I bring my knuckles to my mouth and bite down. He slowly fills me, and groans when he's completely engulfed by me. I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his ass, encouraging him.

Slipping his arms behind mine and holding onto my shoulders, he hugs himself to me while I lazily run my fingers down his back. He pulls himself out, achingly slow and finally begins to thrust; each thrust harder than the last. He drops his head to my shoulder and kisses the side of my neck, grunting with each thrust. 

"Fuck," he mutters against me.

I reach down and cup his ass, feeling his muscles flex with each trust. I turn my head and kiss his jaw, licking and nipping my way to his mouth. He kisses me hard, beads of sweat forming across his brow.

"God, you feel so good," I utter between pants.

"Oh, god, Maggie, if you," Chris kisses me before he continues, "if you talk dirty, I'm going to lose my mind."

I giggle against his lips. It's not something I've ever tried before but I'd love to send him over the edge. I keep my mouth close to his ear as he continues to pound into me.

"Mmm, fuck, yes. You're going to make me cum," I moan.

He growls and buries his head into my neck.

"Oh, Chris, don't stop, please!" I tighten my legs around him and try to thrust against him.

Chris takes my hands and holds them above my head. "Don't move, just look into my eyes," he says darkly.

I swallow hard and nod. His hands slide down the sides of my body where he then grips my hips and rhythmically pumps in and out of me, never breaking eye contact. His eyelids are so heavy and his jaw is set as he pants.

"You're so beautiful," he confesses. 

I would blush if I weren't already completely flushed. "Kiss me," I command him.

Eyes still on mine, he lowers his lips and presses them against my own. Pulling back, he begins to thrust harder again. I want to touch him, but I keep my arms up over my head. Chris thumbs my clit and his lips twitch as he smiles. My toes begin to curl and my knees ache like I need to run or they'll explode. The aching climbs up my legs and another orgasm ripples through me. I stretch my arms up higher, my back arching. I let out a long moan and my head rolls back. My cunt clenches around Chris and he grunts as I feel him spill inside of me.

He pumps two or three more times before collapsing next to me, nearly breathless. I turn and curl against him, humming with satisfaction. My hair is a tangled mess and we need another shower, but I feel completely and blissfully happy.

"Any chances of you moving back to LA?" Chris asks as he plants a kiss to my soaked hair.

I grin and snuggle even tighter against him.


End file.
